Not As Our Fathers Would Do
by zipple
Summary: Just your typical love against the odds story. Well, maybe not so typical. Scorpius and Rose fanfiction. Ah... young love and ancient evil. Rated for violence. FYI: Rosie is a nickname. She's 'Rosie' with her classmates, 'Rose' with her adult family.
1. A Secret Discovered

Author's Note: Playing with Rowling's toys but not promising to bring them back in one piece.

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Professor Longbottom left the headmistress' office, shuffling his papers. Preparing the 5th year students for O.W.L.S. always caused headaches. Every year, it got harder and harder to impress on these kids how important these exams were to their futures. Headmistress Dobrinski was insistent though, demanding reports on students, giving pointers on better focusing the lessons. Neville thought back to his own 5th year, almost three decades ago. The headmistress was strict, but a far cry from the totalitarian, transparent and truly sadistic tendencies that Umbridge had subjected them to. Dobrinski was fair and effective. Really, a teacher couldn't ask for more than that.

However, he hadn't really been interested in discussing his teaching methods. He was a fine teacher and there was always room for improvement, but there really wasn't much he could do when a student showed no interest or ability in Herbology. Fact was fact. Most students didn't find the subject particularly exciting.

The main focus on tonight's meeting boiled down to one student. Scorpius Malfoy.

Neville shuffled Scorpius' papers to the top. That kid was a whiz. Top marks in every lesson. Always knew the answers, even to things that they hadn't really covered yet. The kid could even calm a mandrake! He had never seen that level of skill before.

When Scorpius was unguarded, Neville had seen the boy lovingly tend to his plants, almost as if they were children. The effect was spectacular. Plants that went under Scorpius' care flourished. More than once, Neville gave Scorpius plants that had been on the brink of dying, even ones that he had written off for gone, only to see them end up bigger and brighter than the previously healthier plants.

There was no doubt about it, Scorpius had an extraordinary gift.

Not that you would notice first off. Just like his father, Scorpius had cronies who practically demanded his leadership. Goyle and Zabini were always at his side, picking fights and causing general mayhem. They were behind nearly every nasty prank in school, and everyone knew it. Malfoy senior had been told several times about these problems, but just like Neville remembered, Draco always waved away the accusations with a smirk on his face. Knowing Draco, he was probably secretly urging such horrible behavior. Maybe even offering bribes.

Many teachers had decided to give up on Scorpius. He was rude in Transfiguration, down-right mean in Care of Magical Creatures and since the potions mistress, Mme Saffrun, was head of Slytherin house, Scorpius simply settled on being lazy. Many of the teachers were simply content to let Scorpius go about his own way, as long as he kept quite.

Even though Scorpius was moderately behaved in Herbology, Neville still refused to take any of Scorpius' abuse. 'He may have talent and money,' he thought 'But there is no excuse.'

He walked out the back of the school, towards the greenhouses. To be fair, Scorpius wasn't the only one causing problems in Herbology. There was still the issue of Rosie Weasley.

'Old prejudices die hard,' thought Neville. Smart as her mother, bullheaded as her father, she and Scorpius got on as well as gasoline and fire. For the past month, every Gryffindor/Slytherin potions class ended with subtracted points and shared detention for the two. Neville had hoped that getting them to work together would resolve some of their differences, but it didn't stop. More and more, it seemed as if they were deliberately trying to rile each other into detention. A push here, and insult there, and off they went.

Neville yawned. Looking at his watch, he realized that it was nearly one am. He picked up the pace towards the greenhouse. He hadn't meant to leave Scorpius and Rosie so long. He only meant to be gone an hour, but the headmistress had started onto one of her lectures and they had lost track of time. With any luck, the pair would be on opposite ends of the greenhouse with minimal injury.

The greenhouse got closer and closer, and Neville could barely start seeing through the windows. He saw a flurry of motion in the window. Two figures were wrestling, fighting.

"Oh Merlin!" He cried as he broke out into a run, drawing his wand. He had to put a stop to this before they--

But once Neville got close enough, he stopped in his tracks. They weren't fighting.

They were snogging. Passionately.

He tucked his wand back into his robes with a chuckle. 'So that's what this past month has been about,' he thought. Really. He had been fifteen once. How could he have been so blind?

He walked up to the greenhouse door, chuckling. He was plainly visible but it was not surprising that Scorpius and Rosie didn't seem to notice.

Taking off his shoe, he gave it a few good whacks on the frame of the door. Rosie and Scorpius flew apart, adjusting their clothes and rushing over to their abandoned projects. Neville gave himself until the count of three, finally hopping inside, wrestling to get his shoe back on.

"Got a nasty bug caught in my shoe. Don't you hate that?"

Rosie and Scorpius looked up innocently from their projects, faces flushed and dirty, just as they had looked for the past month. Neville really had been stupid. Very very stupid.

"Yes, Professor," Rosie said, breathless.

"And oh!" Neville exclaimed, re-examining his watch theatrically. "Look at the time! You two better be off to bed." Separate beds, he resisted to mention. "I'll write notes for both of you, so you won't get in trouble with the prefects." Taking out a notepad from a pocket in his robes, Neville wrote the notes as they tidied up their messes. It took all the effort he had not to laugh knowingly at them.

Rosie and Scorpius headed out the door, taking their notes in turn as Neville handed them out. They had just walked out onto the grass when he added "Oh kids! If you would like some extra _project time _here in the evenings," he said, trying to control the smirk on his face "you can simply ask rather than disrupting my classes."

He gave them a wink and closed the door, noting the wide-eyed expression on their faces before turning away.

'Teenagers,' Neville chuckled to himself.

--------------------------------

"Do you think he saw us?" Rosie whispered, clutching her note in her hand.

Scorpius shook out of his daze to look at her. There was a twig in her hair. Ever so gently, he reached over and plucked it out. "I don't know," he said, flicking the twig to the side. "I don't really care."

Rosie give him a smile, warm and inviting. A few moments ago, her hands had been on him, hot and delicate against the bare skin of his back. It was hard to believe that someone so small could generate that much heat, but then again, it was hard to predict anything with a girl like Rosie.

Her smile quirked. Grabbing his hand, she let out a giggle and dashed off. Despite himself, Scorpius grinned, letting himself be dragged behind her. They rounded the corner and Rosie fell against the wall, panting as she tugged Scorpius toward her.

He pressed against her, feeling her warmth and breathing in her scent. Sweet jasmine invaded his senses as he filled the gap between them. Their lips met again, firm and wonderful. Something blossomed in the pit of his stomach, and Scorpius decided that if he were to die right now, he would go as a happy man.


	2. In the Great Hall

Lily Potter, in her 3rd year, was already an accomplished gossip. Her voice was already clocked past _Firebolt 2020_ airspeed and much to her parents' dismay, she was already making it known that her idol was Rita Skeeter. That was only part of the reason why Rosie showed up at breakfast with her collar turned up. She didn't exactly want questions asked about the love-bites around her neck. But she had caught a bit of a chill from being outside so long with Scorpius. Not that it wasn't worth it, mind you.

"And then Lola said-" Lily said, making a funny mock-whining voice "'you're just jealous because I'm prettier than you are!' And then Gabriella said 'At least I'm not a slut!' And-"

"Oh, shut up, already," Rosie said, taking a sip of tea.

Lily leaned over towards her cousin, eyes wide and sly. "You came in late last night…" she said, self-satisfied tone to her voice.

"I had detention with Professor Longbottom."

"With Scorpius…" Lily sing-songed. Rosie shot Lily an angry look. She was looking rather smug, leaning her elbows on the table, supporting her head in her hands. "Oh come off it, Rosie! He's hot!"

"He's also the son of your dad's enemy."

"Doesn't mean he's not hot," Lily replied, plucking a strawberry from Rosie's plate. Rosie batted her hand away. She really didn't want to deal with Lily right now.

The door flung open as Scorpius entered the hall. Goyle, Zabini and some younger Slytherins followed.

"See!" Lily said with a sigh.

Scorpius stopped to talk with a student near the door. Rosie was in his line of vision, but she knew that he would never acknowledge her here. She knew that it was nothing personal. They had both agreed that it would be important to keep their affair a secret. Scorpius was engaged to some pureblood in Albania who he had only met once, and Rosie was, well… A Weasley. It still hurt, though.

"Well, gee!" Lily said, nibbling on the stolen fruit as Rosie grimaced. "Somebody is crabby this morning."

"I'm not crabby!" Rosie said. She grabbed a couple pieces of toast. "I just have some studying to do. O.W.L.S. are coming up."

"Pft." Lily sat back in her chair. "That's all you ever talk about. Blah blah blah O.W.L.S. Blah blah blah studying. Blah blah blah O.W.L.S. Blah blah blah studying. Geez! Change the bloody record already!" Rosie blinked. Lily rolled her eyes. "My dad grew up with muggles, Rosie. I know what a record is! I'm not THAT stupid. DUH!"

Rosie rolled her eyes and stood up from her chair. It only took her a moment to register that she had tripped over someone. It took another moment to register that a pair of pale hands caught her by the shoulders, softening her blow against a familiar chest. Her toast fell with a muffled crunch.

"Watch where you're going, Weasley."

Rosie looked up at his cold, gray eyes. She wanted so badly to just to kiss him right there. She almost did, until she felt his warm hands squeeze her shoulders in warning. Not here. Not in the common room. Later.

"Well, if your big feet weren't in the way," Rosie grunted, loud enough for any witnesses to hear, "then it wouldn't be a problem!"

Scorpius' sneer gave a hint of a smile as he released her shoulders, letting her stumble onto her feet. He gave her once last look before walking to his normal spot at the Slytherin table.

"Hm…" Lily hummed under her breath.

Rosie looked back to find Lily with her head tilted in her hands. Maybe if she looked hard enough, Rosie would see little floating hearts and cupids flying around her head.

"Yea," Lily sighed dreamily. "Nothing sexy about that."


	3. Fight in the Owlery

Scorpius stood in a window of the owlery, watching the sun set over the Forbidden Forest. Reaching out, he stroked Eule, his black and white striped owl. Eule hooted, nudging at Scorpius' hand.

"I don't have any letters for you tonight," he said, withdrawing a small pouch from his robes, he dumped some of the contents into his palm. Eule nipped at the nuts and dried cranberries, then at Scorpius' ear. "Not to my father, no. I know I need to write him."

Eule cocked his head at him, asking the unanswerable question. Scorpius gave Eule a half-hearted smile, causing the bird to stretch its wings with a flap. The world finally faded into darkness. Eule, awake and refreshed, gave a last hoot before launching off his perch and into the night ahead. Scorpius dropped the nuts and fruit on the floor. One of the owls were bound to eat it eventually.

It was almost the end of the school year, but somehow it seemed that it was over with too quickly. There was Hogwarts, but of course there was always Hogwarts. The beginning and end of all things.

More flapping followed as the other owls came awake. Scorpius walked away from the window, keeping out of the way as the birds began to leave. Part of him envied them. They were free. Obligated to no one. True, they all had a master, but there was really nothing that could be done if the owl simply never decided to come back. An owl didn't have any traditions to uphold. An owl didn't have to pretend to be something it wasn't. It simply did what it liked.

'Such freedom,' he thought wistfully. His thoughts were broken as he was gripped from behind.

He turned sharply, gripping his wand tightly. But he abandoned all thought when he realized that the hands were Rosie's, as was the mouth that was biting his lower lip.

Scorpius felt himself melt. Maybe owls didn't have it so great after all. What owl would ever appreciate this?

Rosie broke away, sated look in her eyes as her fingers toyed with Scorpius' hair. "It drove me nutters when I couldn't do that in the great hall."

"You weren't the only one," he replied, wrapping his arms around her. She sighed in content, burying her hands into his robes. The school year was almost over. The O.W.L.S. were next week and they'd be ripped apart. She could barely stand to be away from him. What would it be like without him for two months?

'No,' she scolded herself. 'Don't spoil this.'

"What are you thinking?" Scorpius whispered, fingering her hair. It was soft, unruly and a shocking shade of red.

"Nothing," Rosie said, snuggling deeper into him. He felt so welcome to her. Why did she have to leave this behind?

Scorpius said nothing, only hummed. It didn't take a mind-reader to understand. "I wish we didn't have to go," he said, lifting her chin in his hand. He gave her a kiss, letting himself fall into the mindless flow of words that neither of other them had to say.

--------------------------

Scorpius and Rosie sat at the steps of the owlery. There really wasn't much choice, unless they wanted bird droppings all over their robes. That would have given them away right there. Scorpius rested his chin over Rosie's shoulder, watching as she turned the locket over in her hands.

"I don't know what to say."

"Say you'll wear it."

Rosie sighed, handing him the locket. With a smile, he fastened it around her neck. She lifted it, examining the gold and silver glistening in the moonlight. "It's too much. Really."

He laughed into her ear. "First you're worried about being apart during the summer, then you're complaining that what I give you is too much." He snuffled his nose into her hair. "It's only half as beautiful as you are, but to you, it's too good to be true. But I could take it back if you insist…"

He lifted his hands to the clasp, only to have them batted away.

"Scorpius Lucius Malfoy, don't you dare!" Rosie laughed.

Placing his hands back on her shoulders, he laughed. He tugged her to his chest, letting her rest against him. They should have been back in their dorms hours ago, but since when had Scorpius cared about the rules?

"I was thinking," Rosie said after a moment, still examining the locket, "that you could visit this summer."

Scorpius stiffened against her. "But-"

"You don't have to announce yourself to my family or anything!" she said. "Your house isn't that far from mine! Only a mile or two!" She lifted herself off his chest. She turned to face him. "We could meet halfway! Or in Diagon Alley! No one would have to know!"

"But I promised my father that I would go to Albania this summer."

Rosie's smile dropped. "You mean, to go see Viedemal."

Scorpius sighed. "Yes."

"She's too old for you. You barely know each other! You have absolutely nothing in common!"

"It's not my call, Rosie. You know that. Where are you going?"

She lifted herself off the steps, brushing off her robes. "To bed. I'm tired."

Scorpius got up. "Bollocks. You're mad because I have obligations to fill."

"No. I'm mad because they really aren't obligations. They're orders. And you don't have to follow them." Rosie groaned, feeling months of neglect and secrets welling up inside of her. "You're a trained monkey, that's what you are! You're afraid of standing up to your father!"

"Then what do you expect me to do? Do you think I can just tell my father that I'm not interested? That I really don't care about the blood line? About honor? 'I'm sorry dad but I'm really seeing Rosie Weasley on the side!' Yea, that'll go over really well!" Scorpius took a deep breath as Rosie's eyes darkened. "And do you really expect me to believe that you're so tough? I'm sure that your dad would be thrilled to know about us!"

"Leave my father out of this!"

"Oh, come on!" Scorpius spat. "It's all fair to criticize my father, but when it comes to Mr. Ronald Weasley, the noble and righteous Auror, it's suddenly cruel and unusual!"

Rosie clenched her fists, color rising to her face. "At least my father isn't holding my life prisoner!"

"That doesn't mean your father is any better, Rosie! He would kill me if he ever found out and would send you out of Hogwarts! If you don't think that's a prison, then you're wrong, Weasel!"

Scorpius' eyes went wide. Such an old, childish insult that he had heard his father use hundreds of times. The words stung his lips. "Rosie! I'm sorry! I didn't mean-"

Rosie reached for the door. "Thanks for the locket, Malfoy," she muttered, disappearing down the steps.


	4. Contemplating Fate

"HOW COULD I BE SO STUPID?"

He kicked over an owl stand, then another. It wasn't fair! It wasn't his fault! Rosie knew that! She knew that it was nothing personal. What would his dad say? What could Scorpius possibly do to ever change his mind? It wasn't his fault! None of it was! How could Rosie not see that he couldn't avoid this? His father's word was practically law! 'What I say, goes, young man,' he recited in his mind. 'You will marry who I say you will marry! I did not raise you to question my authority! You will do as you're told!'

Albania! Of all places, Albania! Damn rules! Damn life!

"IT'S NOT FAIR!" he screamed. "I DON'T WANT TO GO TO ALBANIA! I DON'T WANT TO MARRY SOME… SOME… PUREBLOOD WENCH!" Knocking over another stand, he watched as it toppled across the room. Tears began to prickle in his eyes. What could his father really do to him if he refused? Disown him? Torture him? He thought back on his Christmas holiday and shuddered.

Grunting, he clenched his fist, letting out a brutal cry when it connected with the cold stone wall.

With a crunch, something seemed to break in him. His hand throbbed as he collapsed against the wall. Biting his lip, he started to shake. Why did he have to call Rosie that? He knew how much that name hurt her. His father told him a lot of things, horrible things about the Weasley family that Scorpius refused to believe. It was almost cruel, the way his father condemned them. He grew up seeing the sneer on his father's face whenever the name was mentioned, watching it intensify as whenever the subject morphed to the Potter family. Trash. Mutts. Half-bloods. Mudbloods. Traitors. No one could really be repulsive as that.

The only truth that Scorpius knew about them was that the family had been poor once. While Rosie had never felt the crunch of poverty, her father certainly had, and he had worked hard to make sure his children never knew. She said that he was a good man. He fought a lot of evil people. Helped defeat Voldemort.

To be fair, so had Scorpius' father and grandfather. So what did that mean anyway?

The sun was starting to rise, the owls returning, but they kept their distance. It only took a moment to realize that Eule had returned and began hooting at his master. Scorpius drew his legs up, letting the owl rest on his knee. He petted Eule with his uninjured hand, letting his head rest against the wall.

Thank Merlin it was only Saturday. No classes to attend after being awake all night. Not like he would want to attend them anyway. But the thought was still liberating. He could skip studying for the day and just rest. There had been too much stress in his life as it was. Tonight was supposed to have been a good night. A farewell before they would be so caught up in parchment and emotion to be able to speak. The locket, one that his family would never miss, he had taken during the Christmas holidays. Rosie, even if she did hate him, would know that someone wanted her to have something beautiful. Warm, inviting and special.

She had the locket, owned a part of him, of his family. He wished, vainly, that it had been more than just a trinket to her. Who was to say that she hadn't already pawned it off on that chatty little Lily, who would probably make up some cock and bull story over it? Or maybe it was in the trash, under a pile of half-chewed rejected Bertie Botts beans or essay scraps?

Maybe she was laughing at him, telling all her friends about how foolish Scorpius was to think that she loved him. Or that he was foolish enough to believe that she was with him and him alone. Telling his secrets, his weaknesses, his fears. All of which he tried very hard to hide. Hell, he didn't even belong in his own house. He knew that. But what would his father have said if he had been put in the house that the Sorting Hat had originally considered? Where would he have been then? Who would he have been? Would he be this much of a disgrace?

He shut his eyes. No. He couldn't let his imagination run away like this.

Scorpius, sick of turning over impossible questions in his head, pictured Viedemal. So cold, so quiet. Waiting. She had worn a black cloak when they met. Her gaze was forever fixated on the ground. Her face always covered in black fabric and shadow. Not speaking, not laughing. Not even a wisp of hair to fly about her. Nothing. The air seemed to freeze around her, like ice on a window. Untouchable, but you could feel her presence. Thinking about her, just mentioning her… it chilled him.

How was he supposed to marry someone who had never looked him in the eye? More appropriately, how can anyone ever love a shadow?

"What am I going to do, Eule?"

The owl cocked his head and hopped down, going after the nuts and fruit that Scorpius tried to feed him earlier.

Careful of his injured hand, Scorpius got to his feet. Not that he expected an answer from Eule, but really, who else could he talk to?

Shaking off the dried droppings and feathers from his robes, he wandered to the infirmary.


	5. Not A Romance Novel

The air was cold, damp. Scorpius was enveloped in darkness.

"Lumos."

The cave filled with light.

He turned. Nothing in front of him. Nothing in back. There was a drip in the distance, which made Scorpius turn with a jerk. He let out a breath, hearing it rattle into the vast space.

"Scorpius…"

He turned again. He had heard something. A hiss. It almost sounded human.

"Scorpius…"

Footsteps were drawing near.

The hair prickled on the back of his neck. "Who's out there?" he whispered. "Show yourself!"

The hiss began to laugh…

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"MORNING, SUNSHINE!"

Scorpius woke with a start, firm grasp on his wand as he pointed it at the voice.

"WHOA!" the voice said with a laugh.

Scorpius shook his head and allowed himself to focus. Green eyes. Black unruly hair. Scorpius flopped back down onto his bed. "Merlin, Al!"

"Awake, I see!" Albus said, depositing himself onto the mattress. How could anyone be so sodding cheerful this early? "Long night, mate?"

"Sod, off. We're not _mates_, Potter. You're just some bloody Gryffindor that got stuck in my dorm and refused to get lost."

Albus gave an amused snort. "I'm just as much of a Slytherin as you are, _mate._ You bloody well know it."

The little git was right. Albus probably had more right to be there than he had. Scorpius gave his own snort, mostly out of frustration. "I bet your parents were really happy to hear that after you got sorted."

"Ah," Albus said with a sigh. He leaned back on the pillows, tucking his hands behind his head with a self-satisfied smirk. "Well, you know them. They don't care as long as I keep out of trouble."

"Since when do you keep out of trouble?"

"Since they made my uncle George promise not to send me anything from his shop."

Scorpius rolled his eyes and climbed off the bed that Albus insisted on occupying. His bed. Scorpius and Albus had a pretty easy-going relationship. Actually, it was more like a truce. It was one thing to have to play up the Malfoy role with idiot followers, it was another thing to try to fool Albus. The boy was too sharp for his own good. Sometimes Scorpius wondered if Albus simply saw him as an overgrown toy to harass, always edging on Scorpius' temper but rarely ever crossing it. That lesson was learned in their first year, when Albus had taken it too far and wound up with his nose, one ear and an eyebrow hexed off for a week.

Seeing that it was clear that Albus wasn't about to leave, Scorpius wandered over to the wash basin in the corner, splashing water onto his face. Looking into the mirror, he groaned. How long had he been asleep? Ten? Maybe twenty minutes? His face looked stretched, tired. Maybe he didn't care about grades, but the upcoming exams loomed over the entire fifth year class. Not to mention Rosie. Grades were important to her, but she always found time for Scorpius. Could he find time for her this summer? No. He hadn't even tried.

He tugged at his tie, loosening the collar. He hadn't even bothered to undress when he came back from the infirmary that morning, he had been so exhausted. Carefully, as not to upset his recently healed hand, he tugged off his shirt.

"HA! Looks like Goyle owes me five Galleons!"

Scorpius turned sharply. He had forgotten that Albus was there.

He sighed, pulling on a fresh shirt. "What were you betting on this time? Quidditch is already over for the season."

"Lovebites, mate!" In the blink of an eye, Albus was up off the bed and jerking at Scorpius' collar. He poked at a particularly tender spot, which earned him a wayward smack. "Oh, come off it, Malfoy! I know you're having it off with some bird. Or bloke. Whichever works for you."

"I'm not having it off with anyone!"

"Well, you certainly didn't get those marks from a bloody flobberworm!"

"I don't have to listen to this," Scorpius said with a huff. He grabbed his bag and headed for the door. Maybe he could get some sleep in the library, or find a broom closet somewhere.

His hand was on the knob when he heard "Cousin Rosie must be a brilliant shag!" from behind him.

In a flash, he dropped his bag and stalked over to Albus, shoving him against the wall with his wand pointed under his chin.

"What did you just say?"

Albus' green eyes went wide in shock. "HEY, put that down!"

Scorpius' eye twitched. "You better explain yourself. _Now_. I know a lot of very nasty curses, Al."

"Yea. Kind of figured that," Albus said sarcastically, although there was not amusement in his voice. Scorpius put some more pressure under Albus' chin. "Ok. Ok!" He took a breath. "Look, I was in the Gryffindor common room last night with James and Lily and Hugo and Rosie came in crying and smelling like owls. She wouldn't tell us what was going on, but she was babbling and your name slipped out." Albus paused, but Scorpius pressed his wand hard into his skin. "Malfoy! Let up!"

"What all happened?! Who else knows?!"

"No one! The common room was empty! That's the only time I go into the Gryffindor house! That's the only time I'm allowed!"

"Not good enough, Potter!" Scorpius said. "Your sister howls louder than a mandrake! If she knows, everyone knows!"

Albus yelped as the wand dug in deeper. "Rosie didn't say that she was having it off with you! For all Lily knows, you caught Rosie with some bloke in the owlery and gave her a hard time! She's been moaning and sighing about some mysterious bloke for weeks, and you haven't exactly been acting right either! But I

didn't put two and two together until I smelled owl on your robes and saw the bites on your neck!" Albus squirmed, but it was useless. "Lily is probably throwing it around how much of an arse you are, and that's all! And I'm bloody inclined to agree with her if you don't let up!"

Scorpius withdrew his want, letting Albus rest against the wall.

Albus took a few deep breaths, color coming back to his face. "You know, if want to keep something like that a secret, you might not want to fly off the handle like that."

"Yea, I'll keep that in mind," Scorpius said dryly. He sat back down on his bed, lethargy in his bones. "Not like it would matter much though, after last night."

"What happened?"

Scorpius shot him a look.

Albus rolled his eyes. "All we could make out was that there was an argument. She didn't tell us what happened exactly."

Scorpius laid down and began to tell Albus the whole story. Albus stood quietly and listened, enthralled. Really, who would have guessed that Scorpius had this side to him? He and Rosie had not only been officially together for weeks, but had fancied each long before that. He imagined it as an awkward dance. Rosie would take a step forward and Scorpius would take a step back only to advance again and watch as she reacted in turn, watching as the gap closed a little more each time until they drew into one another. If this were a romance novel, like the ones his gran read but hid under the furniture, they would have rode off into the sunset living happily ever after.

But this wasn't a romance novel.

Albus knew that Scorpius had issues with his father. Honestly, what teenage boy didn't? Albus argued with his father, but over trivial things, like grades and misplaced dung-bombs (which he still denied). But all in all, he knew that his father loved him, and that he loved him back, even though it would be pretty stupid to say it. In some way, he assumed that all families were like his. Chaotic, but devoted.

Scorpius talked about the Christmas holidays, voice catching. Scorpius' mother was dead. The school knew it. She died last summer from a wayward curse, although the family denied that they were still involved in the dark arts anymore. As an effect, his home went from bad to worse. Mr. Malfoy, whose temper had once been curbed by his wife, now showed no signs of compassion for his son. Albus' father had tried to explain these things to Albus after their return, how painful and harsh death could be, and how different people reacted in different ways, but really there was no way he could understand.

Scorpius had arrived back with bruises. Bruises in the shape of hands. Scorpius had tried to explain it away. To the other Slytherins, it had simply been a fight with an unruly stable-hand. Albus knew better. It had been his fault for talking back, arguing with his father, Scorpius had explained. He had obligations to fulfill. He had to marry this Albanian girl… Viedemal. Whoever she was.

Albus stopped listening. His father had once told him something about Albania. Something about the dark arts.

Voldemort.

"Wait," Albus said. Scorpius lulled his head towards him. He had been talking, but his voice felt distant, as

if he were talking to nobody. Maybe announcing to the world. His tongue felt thick in his throat. "This girl you're supposed to marry? She's in Albania?"

"Yea," Scorpius muttered, feeling the pull of sleep tug at his eye lids. "Apparently the marriage has been arranged since before I was born."

"Are you going to go through with it?"

Scorpius thought for a moment, studying the curtains on his four-poster. "I don't know. What choice do I have?" All this talk made him sad, lonely. He wished Rosie was here.

"You have Rosie," Albus said after a long moment.

Scorpius sighed. "Maybe I do, maybe I don't. After what I did last night, I wouldn't be surprised if she never looked at me again."

"What did you do exactly?"

"Called her 'Weasel.'"

Albus let out a hiss. He remembered the last time he called Hugo that, and hadn't been pretty.

"But it wasn't just about that," Scorpius said. "I don't know, maybe I'm just not cut out to have a real girlfriend. Maybe it would just be better if she found someone who wasn't… me. Merlin! That sounded so stupid!" He shoved the pillow over his head. Sleep sounded so welcome at the moment, but he felt restless. Why did he have to be such an insensitive jerk?

After a long moment, Albus cleared his throat. "Well, maybe you can make it up to her."

"And how would I do that?"

Albus thought for a moment, then the cloud of angst finally lifted from the room as his trademark smile, the one that he had so graciously inherited from his Weasley heritage, began to immerge.

"Well, I've found this room, you see…"


	6. The Room of Requirement Returns

"Holy Merlin!" Scorpius muttered.

"Yea, I know. Isn't it great?"

Scorpius looked around him. Vaulted ceilings, plush scarlet carpet, a candle-lit dining table, a couch in front of a fireplace, a dance floor, a million pillows topping an extravagant king-sized bed in the corner… All this in one room? It was dark and luxurious, exotic and romantic. If Scorpius had been a girl, he would have been drooling.

Reaching out to touch a curtain, he almost sighed lovingly at the softness of the velvet. He restrained himself, simply because that was too girly.

"How did you find this place?"

Albus flopped down on the bed. "When Mum and Dad were at school, they trained Dumbledore's army here when the defense teacher wouldn't let them practice."

Scorpius lifted an eyebrow. "In a room that looks like this, you don't exactly 'train against the dark arts'."

Albus rolled his eyes. "Not looking like this, no. The room changes according to your needs. For example-"

Behind him, Scorpius heard a distinct pop. On the dining table, rather empty, there were treacle tarts, an impressive brandy pudding and two goblets of pumpkin juice. With another pop, the bed turned into a trampoline. Albus gave a few good jumps before Scorpius took over and turned the trampoline into a pool. Albus climbed out sputtering. He took off his glasses and shook them, spitting out a small rubber duck at Scorpius. "Very funny, Malfoy."

In apology, a towel, a dressing screen and a change of clothes appeared next to Albus. By the time he emerged, Scorpius had already claimed half of the brandy pudding.

"So, what do you think?"

"It's bloody fabulous," Scorpius said around a mouthful of pudding. "I didn't know you were such a good cook."

"I meant the room."

Scorpius gave an amused snort. "I know what you meant. Frankly, I'm a bit surprised that your parents told you where this room was, seeing that you're enough trouble as it is."

"Oh, they didn't _tell_ me where it was. It took me until 4th year to find it." He grabbed at a treacle tart. "Strange, though. When I first came across it, it was a loo." Albus poked his fork into Scorpius' pudding, earning him a smack. "But then again, I probably shouldn't have gone looking for it after a butterbeer drinking contest."

Scorpius let out another snort. "You mean you've been using this room since 4th year? And no one else knows about it?"

"Well, I wouldn't say that," Albus said with a blush.

Fork in midair, Scorpius paused with a smirk. "I see." He took another quick glance around the room. "I take it that this layout isn't just something you made up in the past hour, is it?"

Albus bent his head over his treacle tart, shifting it around with his fork more than eating it, but his face was slowly turning to crimson.

Scorpius leaned back, trying hard not to smile outright. "I take it you haven't told your parents yet."

Silence.

He snickered. "Is pwecious ickle Albie-kins afwaid to tell his wittle daddy?"

With that, Albus' fork shot out, embedding itself into the table top next to Scorpius' hand. "It's not like you're any better. I happen to know some pretty nasty curses too, Malfoy," he said, voice gone dark.

"Merlin, calm down," Scorpius scoffed. "I wouldn't dream about letting out your pathetic little secrets.

They simply aren't that important."

Albus let out a sigh. Bloody dorm mates.

------------------------

"Al! Where are we going?" Rosie wasn't sure how much longer she could take this. Her cousin had been dragging her along the corridors for a good ten minutes. Apparently, he had something important to show her but refused to tell her what.

She wasn't in the mood for this; there was too much on her mind as it was. Everyone assumed that she was just under strain because of the O.W.L.S., but really, it was her fight with Scorpius that kept playing in her head. But since people's assumptions gave her a good excuse to brood, she didn't bother to correct them. Lily seemed to be the only one who remembered that Rosie had had a fight at all, but for once, she was keeping quiet about it.

The use of the word 'Weasel' hadn't bothered her so much as the implication it set. Was she really nothing more than Scorpius' plaything? Something to have fun with until he had to go play house with some Albanian tramp? Maybe this was all cruel joke to humiliate his father's enemy. If that were the case, she would just have to walk away before things got any worse. He didn't care about her. He only cared about his father, his money. Maybe he even _liked _Viedemal.

This thought, above all others, made Rosie feel sick to her stomach. Maybe his father was just an excuse. What if he genuinely loved this girl that he was engaged to, but didn't want to admit it?

Before she could dwell anymore on the subject, Albus came to an abrupt halt in front of a blank wall. "We're here!"

Rosie cocked an eyebrow up. "We ran all that way, and you want to show me a wall?" she exclaimed between breaths.

Albus laughed, and waited a moment to catch his breath. "To mere muggles," he said when he had recovered, "it may just be a wall…" He took three quick paces in front of Rosie, a look of concentration written on his face. Slowly, the blank wall began to take on a shape, a definition. "But for _us…_"

Rosie gasped. "Albus! You found it!"

"Yea."

She placed a hand on the door, feeling the wood beneath her fingers. This couldn't be. She could have sworn that it had just been a myth. "The Room of Requirement," she muttered to herself.

Albus nodded and leaned forward. Grabbing the knob, he gave it a quick turn, letting the door slowly creep open. Candle-light slipped out into the hall. With a grin, he shoved Rosie forward, her body weight forcing the door to open all the way.

She collapsed onto the floor with a grunt, turning her head to see Albus giving her a little wave before the door shut her in.

"AL!" she cried, jumping up and tugging at the door. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" She gave the door a swift kick, jerking at the knob. Locked. "AL! THIS ISN'T FUNNY!"

"Hello, Rosie."

She turned. Her breath hitched in panic. Someone was in there. The candle-light was dim, even with the fireplace crackling in the corner. Staring out into the room, she couldn't see anyone.

"WHO'S THERE?" she called. Dipping into her robes, she grasped her wand. "I'M ARMED!"

Someone chuckled.

She took a cautious step. "I MEAN IT!" she yelled. "I'LL HEX YOU!"

She took another step.

Taking short breaths, she focused her ears to every sound of the room. The crackling of the fire rang in her ears, but otherwise, it was silent.

"SHOW YOURSELF!" she called out again. Her ears started to pound as she moved about the room quietly. When she got through with Albus, they would be scraping his entrails from the ceiling.

Suddenly, an arm grabbed her from behind. "Expelliarmus!"

The body gave an 'oof' as it flew backwards and landed with a thump. Rosie screamed as she was whacked in the face with what felt like several sharp pins. "LUMOS!" she cried, turning with her wand to face the lump behind her.

"SCORPIUS?"

He sat up, rubbing his head. "Merlin, Rosie!" he said with a groan. "It's just me!"

"Nox," she muttered, and her wand dimmed. Rosie stood there panting. "YOU BASTARD! YOU NEARLY KILLED ME!" She touched her face. "WHAT WAS THAT?"

Picking up a stalk from the ground, Scorpius gave a sheepish smile and held it out to her. "Rose?"

Rosie let out an anguished howl and marched over to the door. "I can't believe you! Let me out!"

"Wait! Rosie! Ouch!" he groaned as he gripped the stem of the rose too hard. "I'm sorry!"

"Yea, right."

"I AM!"

She looked back at him, his hair disheveled, hand bleeding. "You look sorry enough," she said cruelly.

"Yea, well. You do that to me."

"Save it for someone who cares."

"Well I care," Scorpius said, gathering more of the roses. "I didn't mean to hurt you!"

"Well, you know what? You did. So let me out of here and you can go to Albania and fulfill your damn obligations and we'll just forget this ever happened!"

Scorpius stood there speechless. He had meant for this part of the discuss to come later, but here it was, staring him in the face.

"Rosie," he said quietly. "I'm not going to Albania."

She had just been ready to cast an unlocking spell, but she almost dropped her wand.

"What did you just say?"

Scorpius took a deep breath. "I said, I'm not going." He gripped the roses tighter, heedless of the pain. "I'm going to stand up to my father. I'm not going back to Albania and I'm not going to marry Viedemal."

Rosie's hand curled into a fist. "You're just saying that! You're saying that so I'll stay. You're saying it now, and then when 7th year comes, you'll turn right around and say that you didn't mean it!"

"I WILL NOT!" Scorpius bellowed. "I'm asking for you to forgive me! But even if you don't, I still won't do it! My father may beat me or disinherit me, but if he wants me to follow tradition, that's his problem! I'm not my father, Rosie! And I refuse to ruin my life just because he ruined his!"

Scorpius waited, feeling his shoulders hunch and ache. So there it was. He made the decision. For better or worse, even if Rosie didn't come back to him, he had decided.

Rosie sat on the floor, feeling the beginning of hot tears in her eyes. This couldn't be real. This was a dream. "But what will you do if he disinherits you?"

Scorpius walked over, sitting down in front of her. He reached out with his free hand, caressing her cheek. There was some mild satisfaction that she didn't jerk away from the touch. "I don't know. And I don't care. I'm pretty good with Herbology. Maybe I'll do that. Maybe Professor Longbottom will let me train under him." He gently lifted her face to meet his eyes. "I can start from scratch. I won't be the first person to have ever tried it." He gave her a weak but genuine smile. "I just hope that you'll agree to do it with me." He handed her the rose. She took it.

She smiled, letting the tears pour down her face. Not out of sorrow, as they had started, but out of happiness.

She laughed, wrapping her arms around him and pulling him down on top of her. They kissed, only to have Scorpius mutter a sharp "OW!" He pulled up from her as her brows knitted in confusion. "Thorns," he snorted, grabbing the flower and tossing it to the side. Laughing, she pulled him down again.


	7. Meeting with the Headmistress

Rosie wasn't sure what was better. Knowing that half her O.W.L.S. were over with or the fact that she and Scorpius now spent nearly every free moment in the Room of Requirement. No more sneaking kisses into broom cabinets. No more intentional detentions in Herbology. Every moment with him marked a new sense of hope for them, and she couldn't let herself think that it was all too good to be true. They were almost 16, and in another year would be legal adults. Best of all, Scorpius could be with her. Would be with her. That was cause for celebration right there.

Laying against his chest, watching him sleep, she hoped that it would never end.

---------------------------

Harry and Ron arrived that evening, bags in tow. It was tradition, almost, for them to come and give the Defense Against the Dark Arts practical exam. Now that the Death Eaters were out of the way, they had the free-time to come and teach on occasion. Although, in a few years, another batch of Voldemort's followers would arise and the Aurors, once again, would have to take care of the problem.

To say that age hadn't effected them would be a lie. For the most part, Ron's transformation was natural. As a teenager, he had been lanky and awkward. His work and training as an auror gave him muscle and confidence that Harry wished Ron had during their Quidditch years. He grew a short beard, and generally kept himself neat, if for no other reason than to please his wife. Other than that, not much had changed about him, other than the various creases and wrinkles one tends to get with age (and teenagers).

Harry, on the other hand, was hardly recognizable from the small, underfed boy that had first arrived thirty-some years ago. His hair was long and scraggly, streaked here and there with grey. Years of fighting wore on him, but give him an impression of strength, intimidation and grace. . His face, once clear except for the lightening bolt on his forehead, was marked with scars. Some small, others bold and angry. To those who didn't know him, he looked quite menacing However, behind his glasses, his green eyes still flashed with mischief and wisdom. Time had, if nothing else, gave him all the more reason to appreciate his life and his family. Beneath that hardened exterior was a man that knew he was truly blessed.

"HARRY! RON!"

"Hello, Hagrid!" they called back, in unison.

Hagrid, although retired from teaching, stayed on grounds. No matter how old Harry and Ron got, they were still treated to tea and rock-hard biscuits whenever they returned. Twenty-four years had gone by and Hagrid's cooking had not improved. Not that Harry didn't mind trading a healthy stomach for a familiar face.

Hagrid scooped them up, trapping them against his chest in an intense hug. Years of experience told the men to stay limp as rag dolls. Struggling and protests only made Hagrid cling harder.

"Welcome back! I'd invite ya in, but the 'Eadmistress wants to see yer right away."

"As always," Ron laughed, grateful when Hagrid finally eased them to the ground. "Very efficient, that woman."

"'Eadmistress, to ya. Fine woman. Fine woman, 'eadmistress Dobrinski is."

Ron and Harry sighed. Forever loyal.

The trip to the Headmistress' office was fairly typical. Hagrid talked about Hogwarts, pointing out the new developments on the grounds. Ravenclaw had won the Quidditch cup, but Gryffindor put up a good fight thanks to Hugo and James. They had only lost by 10 points.

Then came the lectures. James was just like his grandfather, arrogant and cocky. Smart as a whip, just like all the Potter children were. James kept his nose clean but inherited his father's habit of sneaking around, although no one could ever seem to catch him at it.

'The Marauder's map,' Harry thought with a smile. 'I wondered which one of them took it.'

Hugo, of course, was obsessed with sports. Couldn't say two words without the third being about Quidditch. More than once, Hugo had bored Hagrid to tears with statistics and strategies, but mention girls and he's blush so hard that you wouldn't know where his face ended and his hair began.

"Just like his old man!" Harry laughed, ducking when Ron took a playful swing at him.

"Like you're one to talk!" Ron chuckled. "Don't think I've forgotten our 4th year."

"I haven't forgotten either! Your dress robes were hideous!" Harry let out a mock howl as Ron pushed him to the ground.

No wonder their kids were trouble. Grabbing them by their collars, Hagrid gave them a gentle shove forward. Ron gave a last smack, Harry stuck out his tongue, but they soon straightened out and continued on.

Hagrid sighed. They might be in their 40's, but they were still kids.

-------------

"Master Potter. Master Weasley. Come on in, gentlemen." The headmistress sat at her desk, looking over various bits of parchment. At first, Harry and Ron were not quite used to the strict demeanor of the headmistress, but now they knew that it always took her a few minutes to finish her work before keeping her appointments. She wasn't about to simply sit and wait for them to arrive, but she wasn't going to let off her work either until she was ready.

Of course, this gave them time to take a look around.

Ron headed off to the windows, taking in the view of the Quidditch field while Harry went to the portraits. His end-of-year visit would not be complete without speaking to Dumbledore. Who was, of course, sound asleep.

"Professor?"

Dumbledore gave a snort, but otherwise did not stir.

"Professor," Harry said, just a shade louder.

Nothing.

"Allow me," said the neighboring portrait. Cupping his hands to his mouth, he shouted "ALBUS!"

"LOLLY!" Dumbledore yelped with a start. His eyes darted around the room a bit before settling. "What's all this hullabaloo about, Severus?"

Lowering his hands from his mouth, Snape gave a satisfied smile as he crossed his arms in front of his chest. "I believe that Mister Potter would like to have a word with you."

Dumbledore bent down, searching for his spectacles. "That namesake of mine in here again?"

Snape snorted. "_Our _namesake, if you don't mind . Although I fail to imagine why anyone would want to saddle their child with such a name." He gave Harry a very pointed glare.

"Well, I'll certainly have to speak with Harry about his son when he comes to visit. Now where in blazes are my glasses?"

Snape rolled his eyes and wandered out of his portrait.

"On top of your head, Professor," Harry suggested.

Dumbledore placed a hand on his head, giving a happy cry over finally finding them. Wiping them on his robes, he carefully perched them onto his nose. A smile drifted over his face as things came into focus. "HARRY! HELLO!"

"Hello, Professor," Harry replied, trying not to laugh. The man had gone a bit dotty since the end of the war, but perhaps it was for the best. After all that had happened, Dumbledore deserved a bit of lunacy. "You're looking well."

"Generally speaking, yes. Although, there really isn't much that can happen to you when you become a picture on a wall."

"Of course, of course. I have to ask though, just how many times has my _darling _son come to Dobrinski's office?"

"Twenty-seven by my last count."

"Ah," Harry said, grin on his face. "Down a bit from last year then."

"There's still time."

"Indeed."

"But he's a lovely boy. Kind enough to bring me some sweets from Honeydukes, so I can't fault him for that." Dumbledore grinned, folding his hands over his stomach.

"Don't let him fool you. He's just doing it to butter you up. Besides, you're a portrait. You certainly can't eat them."

"Ah! Don't deny an old man his Fizzing Whizzbees! I'm willing to over-look a bit of naughtiness if it produces the results I like." Dumbledore looked over his glasses, giving Harry a knowing smile. "And of course I can't eat them, but I can certainly remember!" Smacking his lips, he leaned forward a bit. "This woman here," he whispered loudly "has no appreciation for the little luxuries of life. Bland potatoes and poached trout for her! Won't even indulge herself in a nice cherry tart during the holidays! No pleasure at all! Taste is wasted on the living, you know," he said sadly.

"Ahem!"

Harry turned, quickly noting that Ron was already seated in front of the headmistress' desk. Dobrinski gave a curt nod to the unoccupied chair next to him.

He turned back to Dumbledore. "I'd better go, Professor. Thank you for the chat."

"Always a pleasure, Harry," Dumbledore said with a yawn, already drifting back to sleep.

Harry took his place in front of Dobrinski's desk.

"Well, I see where your daughter gets her talent for gossip," she said, shuffling parchment. Before Harry could remark, she settled the parchment onto her desk. "Now. Down to business."


	8. The Start of Trouble

Scorpius backed up a bit, laying down so he was pressed against the back of the couch. Rosie joined him, laying against his chest, facing the fire. It crackled invitingly, warning their bodies. Not that they necessarily needed it.

"What do you want to do, you know, after school?" Scorpius muttered, pressing his nose to her hair.

She thought for a moment before answering. "I think I might live and work with muggles for a bit." She nudged an elbow at Scorpius when he laughed. "No seriously! They're fascinating!"

"Your grandfather will love that," Scorpius chuckled.

Rosie giggled. "Well, it was mum who gave me the idea. She was muggle-born, you know. My uncle was raised by muggles and Papa is always collecting odds and ends. I think it might be fun to live that life, having to do things yourself, rather than with magic."

"Even dishes?"

"I think the muggles made something to take care of that for them."

Scorpius gave an unsophisticated giggle. "Bloody fools have thought of everything."

"I'll ignore that little statement," Rosie said. She turned over, facing Scorpius. She kissed his grinning mouth, she sighed happily under her breath, wrapping her arm around him. They kissed lazily for a moment. After all, it was only early evening and they didn't really have anywhere to be. Rosie's father wasn't due until morning anyway.

Eventually, they parted, pressed up close to one another. Rosie gave a sleepy smile, feeling her heart soar as Scorpius returned it.

"Tell me something you've never told anyone else."

Scorpius snorted. "Why?"

"I don't know," she shrugged. "Just curious."

Scorpius bit his lip. "Promise you won't laugh," he said after a moment.

"I promise."

"And that no one finds out about this?"

"May I fail all my examines and be locked in a room with Peeves."

"That you won't tell your brother or Lily? Please don't tell Lily…"

She gave him a sound smack on the arm. "I promise! Now tell me already!"

Scorpius let out a breath and mumbled something unintelligible.

"Excuse me, Mr. Malfoy. What was that again?"

"I said 'the sorting hat originally wanted to put me in Hufflepuff.' HEY! You promised that you wouldn't laugh!"

Rosie curled up and literally rolled off onto the floor, laughing so hard that tears were streaming down her face. Scorpius peered over the edge of the couch, watching in horror as his girlfriend paused, looked up at him, pointed, then dissolved into peels of laughter.

Scorpius shoved his face into a cushion. This was why he had never told anyone.

----------------------------

Ron flung his suitcase onto his bed. Flipping it open, he groaned, realizing that he had, once again, forgotten his socks. He considered asking Harry for a pair, but waved off the idea. Harry had a habit of forgetting his extra knickers, and it would be much easier to refuse if he wasn't borrowing the socks.

He changed from his traveling robes to something a bit more casual for dinner in the great hall. The headmistress had kept things fairly simple this time. Studying, futures, careers, the importance of students keeping their noses clean and preparing themselves for the real world. It had all been quite boring, actually. The only thing slightly amusing about the whole ordeal was Phineas Black, who had been placed right behind her, had taken to mimicking her rather poorly.

The meeting only lasted about twenty minutes. So one thing could be said about the headmistress; she was quick.

"Forget unpacking," Ron said, taking out his wand and levitating the suitcase to a corner. They had agreed to stay until the end of the term, not through the whole summer, so what was the point?

Flopping down on the bed, he tucked his hands under his neck, letting his eyes drift shut. Dinner wouldn't be for another hour or so. Maybe he could catch a quick nap before getting ready.

No sooner had he begun to fall asleep when there was a knock on the door. "Mate? Ron?" Harry said through the door. "I seem to have forgotten to pack a couple of things."

Ron sent a quick silencing and locking spell on the door and fell back asleep.

A few minutes later, he awoke again. It had been a long day, and he never had trouble falling asleep after a long journey. However, it felt as if a small rock had embedded itself in his stomach. He rolled over, but something kept nagging at him.

Auror training had taught him to trust his instinct. 'But this is Hogwarts,' he told himself. 'There hasn't been any real danger here since Voldemort died.' Truth be told, he had been a little concerned about it, but Hogwarts was a family tradition, and there hadn't been any major problems since what would have been their 7th year.

At that point, he wished that he had remembered to pack some of the nerve tonics that Hermione usually advised. She had handed him a bottle of it while he had been packing, since speaking in front of students usually made him a little anxious. 'Old habits die hard, I guess.'

He tried laying down again, but it was useless. Taking up a glass of water on the bedside table, he rubbed his forehead. He didn't feel feverish. Maybe he was just a little nervous over the exams for the next day. Maybe lunch just hadn't agreed with him. Whatever the case, there really was nothing to worry about. He took a drink of water. Everything was fine.

--------------------

"Bit of an itch, mate?"

Harry shot Ron a look, lowering his hands from the back of his robes. Ron grinned back innocently.

"Every year's the same. I forgot my knickers."

"And I forgot my socks."

"Want to trade? Some extra y-fronts for some extra socks?"

"For the hundredth time, no. Best mate or brother-in-law, there is no force strong enough that will make me forfeit my pants to you. It's bloody nasty."

Harry snorted. Cursed wool trousers. That was the last time he would accept any clothing from Molly. Ever.

Ron laughed as they turned the corner that led to the great hall. There were some things that never changed. Or at least, he wished they didn't. As much stress was two kids were, he couldn't help but wish that time would go by just a bit slower. Rose was graduating in two years, and wanted to go into the muggle world. Which meant that Ron would hardly see her after that. Hugo he got along well enough with, being into Quidditch and all, but he no longer looked up to Ron as he once did. And forget things like hugging or other displays of effect in public. Suddenly, Ron was this old git who was clueless and an embarrassment. Hugo didn't tell him anything, and Rose didn't exactly see him as her knight in shining armor anymore either.

Arthur had laughed at him. Being the father of seven kids taught you a thing or two about hormones and puberty. "Look at me!" he said in a muggle bowler hat and backwards suspenders. "You don't think of me as silly and old-fashioned now, do you?"

Fortunately, Hermione had walked in with a straight face and told him that it was time to go.

He supposed that that was life. A circle of people having children, only to watch them grow and leave for their own lives. He felt himself sigh pathetically, then mentally slapped himself over the head. How bloody depressing could he get?

They entered into the hall. At first, they went generally unnoticed, but as per tradition, the first years were startled at the arrival of two strange adults, were as the older students started whispering amongst themselves. 'There's Harry Potter!' he heard many of them say, and a few muttered 'and Rob-Rick… Weasley!'

A few years ago, that would have bothered him, but then again, he didn't have to deal with the press like Harry did, so it evened out quite nicely.

"DADDY!" a cry rang out. Lily came shooting from the Gryffindor table, bounding at Harry. He let out a grunt as she barreled into him, almost knocking him onto the floor. "Daddy! Daddy! Daddy! Daddy!" Lily said, jumping off her father. "Guess what! Esmeralda and me! We're gonna start a school paper! And it's gonna have fashion and news and all sorts of cool stuff!"

"That's great, honey!" Harry said, with a touch of mock happiness to his voice. However Lily didn't seem to notice it.

"And guess what, Daddy…" They didn't have to guess. The change in her tone from overly excited to unbearably young and sweet made it pretty easy to figure out what she was thinking. "If you're the wonderful daddy that I know I have, maybe you'll be my first interview?"

She batted her big brown eyes at her father. From a distance, Ron could see Esmeralda leaning in her seat, trying to see what would happen.

Harry bit his lip. He always liked to encourage his kids, but this was…

Lily saw her window, in which her argument mostly consisted of "Please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please plea-"

"We'll see," Harry said, trying to be firm, but more concerned that his daughter might pass out.

"Really? You mean you'll do it?"

"We'll see."

"But you'll do it?"

"Maybe!" Harry said, trying to push a bit of authority into his voice.

Lily, knowing full-well that when her dad said 'maybe' it generally meant 'yes', let out a happy squeal and did a little victory dance.

"Now go sit down. We'll talk about it later."

Lily ran back to her seat, all the way distinctly crying "Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes!" She landed in her seat with a plop, immediately giving Esmeralda a high-five. The student body (and quite a few of the staff) were trying to hold back outright laughter.

Ron turned his laugh into a cough, causing Harry shoot him a nasty look. "What? I didn't say anything!" he whispered. "I can't help it if she's got you tied around her little finger…"

Harry snorted. "Yea, like you're any better." But he didn't comment further.

They kept walking, finally coming to a halt where James and Hugo sat. Albus came up as well from the Slytherin table.

After sharing a slightly less embarrassing moment with their sons, Ron stopped. "Hugo, where's Rose? Why isn't she here?"

Hugo shrugged. "I dunno. She's been off on her own a lot lately. With some guy, I think."

Ron raised an eyebrow. "Some guy?"

"Yea."

"What guy?" Ron said.

Hugo shrugged again. "I don't know. She didn't tell me."

Ron turned to Albus and James. "Do you know?"

Both boys shook their heads. Suddenly, a light bulb went off in Ron's head. "Oh Lily…" Ron sing-songed as he wandered off down the table to Lily's seat, but Harry had a bit more interest in his youngest son, whose face had started to go a bit pink. And apparently, there was something very interesting about his trainers.

"Al," Harry said. "Is there something you'd like to tell me?"

"Um. No sir."

Harry's brows began to knit. Normally Albus didn't call him 'sir' unless he was, or was about to be in, some very serious trouble. Harry opened his mouth to question him further, but just then Ron returned. "I'm going to go look for Rose. I'm sure she's fine, but her mother will kill me if I don't check." And with that, he was out the door.

Harry turned back to Albus, but only to find that his son had made his way back over to his house table, shoveling food into his mouth at an alarming rate. Harry raised an eyebrow, but didn't comment. If there was one thing that Albus had inherited from Harry, it was the fact that he was a lousy liar.

That was when Harry noticed that there was something else that was off at the Slytherin table.

Scorpius was missing.

Oh Merlin.

Harry ran back out into the hall to catch Ron, but he was already out of sight.


	9. The Frantic Search

"NICK!" Ron called. "NICK! SIR NICHOLAS!"

Nearly-Headless Nick turned. "Why hello, Mr. Weasley. You're looking well!"

Ron doubled up, panting. He had been running around the castle for a good ten minutes and had barely missed running smack into one of Peeve's pranks.

"Sir Nicholas, I don't have time to chat." Nick gave him a scowl. Ron didn't much care though. "I just need to know if you've seen my daughter, Rose, around anywhere."

"Why no!" Nick cried. "I haven't seen her at all lately. Although she really is a sweet girl. Quite like her mother-"

"I know I know 'but so unlike her father.' Bugger. Do you have any idea where she is?"

Nick shook his head, and floated off. Nick had always lectured him on his lack of manners. One more offense wouldn't hurt. Not that Ron had any real time to make amends.

But no one else he had run into had seen Rose in the past few hours. Actually, the general consensus was that she had been particularly hard to find for the past week, only really showing up for classes and then disappearing again when they ended.

Ron rushed up to the Gryffindor tower, but the portrait could only confirm that Rose wasn't in the dorm. He tried the library, but only found a couple of 7th years snogging. He tried the infirmary, the owlery, the astronomy tower, the lake and Hagrid's house, but still no Rose.

By this time, Ron was starting to work himself into a panic, remembering when Ginny had been possessed by Tom Riddle's diary and had nearly gotten herself killed. At that thought, he went to the girl's lavatory, only to find that the Chamber's entrance had obviously not been opened for several years. Moaning Myrtle first yelled, then giggled at the sight of a grown man in her bathroom, but Ron walked off again, not wanting to deal with her at the moment. Or ever.

"Where could she be?" Ron said to himself. This was getting ridiculous. He had lived here for six years! He should have found her somewhere by now. "Steady, Weasley, steady. She's here somewhere, she's got to be here somewhere."

'_With a boy.'_

"She's probably studying in an empty classroom somewhere."

'_With a boy.'_

"It's exam week. I'll see her when she has her Defense exam. No big deal. Nothing to worry about."

"_Boy."_

"OH SOD OFF! YOU'RE NOT HELPING!" Ron bellowed and continued on. Maybe she was lurking somewhere in the dungeons.

_----------------------- _

"Albus."

"Can't talk now, Dad," he replied through a mouthful of food.

"Albus…" Harry said, his voice darkening in annoyance.

"Look! I don't know anything, ok?" Albus said, just a touch too loudly. The hall paused. Zabini and Goyle snerked. Harry ignored it.

"I think you do know something. And you'd better tell me before your Uncle Ron gets back."

Albus squirmed in his seat. Biting his lip, he shook his head. No. He wasn't going to tell.

"We _will _talk about his later, Albus." Harry gave his son a withering look but left quickly for the Gryffindor table. Albus sunk down into his chair, willing himself to disappear. His father could be a very intimidating man when he wanted to be.

"James," Harry said. "If you don't mind going to with me to your dorm, I need to retrieve something of mine that you've borrowed."

James' face paled. "I don't know what you mean, Dad."

Harry placed a gentle but firm hand on his son's shoulder. "I'm disappointed in you for taking it, but you're not in trouble. I just need to use it."

James met his father's eyes and studied them for a moment, deciding on whether or not he really was in trouble. Eventually, he nodded, saying goodbye to his friends at the table before heading out of the great hall with his father.

The door shut with a click and immediately the enter hall looked over in Albus' direction.

At that, Albus really did sink so far down in his chair that he went right under the table, only pausing a moment to reach back up and grab his plate before all traces of him vanished.

-----------------------

Ron was really starting to get angry now. His daughter, his little girl, the most honest kid that he knew had disappeared. It was stupid enough to running around with some boy, but not telling anyone where she was? What if she got hurt? Or broke something? Ron remembered back to his days at the school, and remembered the loads of idiot things that he did, which concerned him even more. What if she got attacked by a wild animal? Or went to the Forbidden Forest and got on the bad side of some centaur? Or worse yet, some of Aragog's children! Maybe she found the entrance to the Shrieking Shack and got bloodied up from trying to sneak past the Whomping Willow! His head started to spin from the endless list of scenarios that whizzed past his mind. He was tempted to turn back and double check to make sure that she wasn't really under the Willow somewhere, but stopped himself. Even in the twilight of the evening, he could tell that nothing had happened there recently. Perhaps she went to the lake and got tangled up with the Giant Squid and-

No. Rose was a smart kid. If she had survived five years of Hogwarts without incident, she should know by now where she could go and what she couldn't do.

Funny how that kind of logic didn't really calm his nerves.

At this point, Ron was walking aimlessly down the corridors, checking every door that he came across. When he found Rose-

'_If I find Rose'_

_When_ he found Rose, she was going to be in a load of trouble. Good excuse or not, you simply don't disappear without telling someone where you're going.

He opened another door, eyes quickly scanning the room before moving on.

"Where could she be?"

--------------------------

Harry and James made the trek up to the Gryffindor tower. Waiting patiently outside of the portrait, Harry took in the view around him. Funny how age fogged your memories. The staircases, once endless and mystical, seemed rather small to him now. Harry glanced at his watch. What could James be doing in there that would take so bloody long?

Harry was about to just go in when James soon reappeared, handing his father the map.

"Dad, I'm sorry that I took the map."

"No you're not," Harry said with a grin. "Although I appreciate the apology just the same." Pulling out his wand, he touched it to the parchment. _"I solemnly swear I'm up to no good."_

Slowly ink started to bleed onto the parchment, revealing the layout of Hogwarts. A cluster of dots appeared in the great hall, but one dot marked 'Ronald Weasley' could clearly be seen moving frantically on the seventh floor. Unfortunately, there was no dot marking Rose or Scorpius anywhere on the map. Harry sighed, casually muttering _"mischief managed" _before folding up the parchment and handing it back to James.

"You know," Harry said, "your grandfather and his friends made this map when they went to school here."

"Grandpa Arthur was one of the Marauders?"

Harry laughed. "No. _My _father, James Potter. It was him, Sirius Black: his best mate, Remus Lupin: Teddy's dad, and Peter Pettigrew. They had a habit of giving into trouble, just like you and Al."

"Who's Peter Pettigrew?"

Harry's face grew dark. "The man who helped Voldemort kill your grandparents."

James fell silent. Harry was always honest with his children, but their mother had told them that their father's past was an off-limits topic for some very good reasons and that it was best to leave it alone.

Placing a hand on his son's shoulder, Harry gave him a comforting smile. "Remind me to tell you a bit about the Marauders over the summer. They were quite a group."

James nodded and smiled at his father's remark. Looking down at the map, he turned it over in his hands. He hadn't realized that his was a link to his father's past. Hadn't realized that this map probably explained and led to some of his more interesting adventures at Hogwarts. James certainly had had a good time with it.

From a distance, James could hear some Gryffindors starting to come back to the common room.

"Wait." Harry said, as if something had finally clicked. "Let me see the map again."

James handed it over quickly, watching as his father muttered the password again, watching as Hogwarts once again appeared on the parchment. Harry studied it for a moment, although James couldn't see why. Nothing had changed except for the fact that dinner was over and that everyone was starting to head back to their dorms.

"Why hadn't I thought of this before?" Harry cried, turning sharply and bounding down the steps.

"What? What's going on?" James said, maneuvering around a cluster of 3rd years, he started trailing after his father.

Harry turned a corner, striding quickly down the hall before turning again, jogging down a stair case. "Remember when your mother and I told you about Dumbledore's Army back in our school days?"

"Yea? So?"

"So," Harry said, taking a sharp left. James sprinted to keep up. "We couldn't practice in a normal classroom, so we used a special room that-"

"'That appeared whenever you needed it and supplied you with whatever you wanted.' The Room of… Whatever it was."

"The Room of Requirement. That's right."

"But-" James said, almost toppling over when his father took another sharp turn. "We've never found the room! It's not on the map! You, Mum, Uncle Ron, Aunt Hermione and Professor Longbottom were making that up!"

Harry stopped and turned to his son. James collided into him, falling backwards onto the floor.

"We didn't lie about that room. We wouldn't just make things up to impress you kids. You know better than that." Harry extended his hand to James, helping him to his feet. James muttered something about Santa and the Easter Bunny, but Harry let it go. Instead, he turned again and continued on. "But during the Great Battle at Hogwarts, there was a big fire in the room that destroyed all its contents. We assumed that it had destroyed the magical properties of the room as well. It certainly seemed that way when we checked it a few days afterwards."

"You mean it healed itself?"

Harry scurried down another flight of stairs. Almost there. Almost. "I can't pretend to understand everything about magic, James, but that could be the case."

"Why doesn't it show the room on the map?"

"Because the map only shows the rooms that the Marauders knew about. I found out from a house-elf, Dobby. Professor Dumbledore found it looking for a toilet. Your uncle George found it with your late uncle Fred and used it to hide from the squib janitor. You generally only find it by mistake."

"Is that where you think Rosie might be?"

"With any luck, yes. But if she's there, she better have a good explanation why she found it and failed to tell anyone. There's no telling what effect that fire had on the room."

Harry began to slow down, and James let out a happy sigh. His lungs had been starting to burn. Harry took a look around the hall they were in. It had been so long since he had been here that perhaps he couldn't find it right away. He began examining the corridor while James stayed behind and caught his breath.

Turning the corner again, he caught a glimpse of red as a very frazzled Ron started to pace in front of a stretch of wall and enter into a magical door as a house-elf wandered off into another direction.

Ron disappeared through the door as Harry muttered "Shit."

--------------------

Ron had been in the process of wandering the seventh floor corridor when he ran into Binky. Hermione had, just a few years ago, passed a law that forbade the enslavement of house-elves, but many stayed on with paying jobs. Most elves preferred to go about almost naked as they did before, but fair few paid tribute to Dobby by wearing clothing, generally outlandish and silly (not that anyone dared to tell them). Binky, with his big eyes and small tuft of hair, was a good example of the latter. Dressed in an old, ratty and faintly odorous set of coat-tails and cummerbund, he vaguely looked like a scrawny, balding penguin. The tuxedo obviously had been on old one, which Ron had recognized as the Professor Flitwick's that had been worn to the ball in Ron's 4th year, and was absolutely swimming on the little elf.

It would have been mildly amusing if Ron hadn't been so worked up over Rose.

"Binky," Ron said, getting down low to meet the elf in the eye. "Have you seen my daughter?"

Binky, who never spoke, shook his head. Ron sighed, digging into his robes and withdrawing a picture. Ron handed it to the elf.

Binky studied it for a while, cocking his head this way and that before his wide eyes became even wider. Grabbing a hold of Ron's hand, the elf took off. For a moment, Ron staggered trying to keep from toppling over, but if this is what he had to do to find Rose, then he would go along with it.

Fortunately, they didn't have far to go before Binky stopped at a bare wall and pointed.

"What the bloody hell?" Ron exclaimed. He looked down at the small elf, who jumped excitedly. Binky pointed to the picture, then pointed to the wall, then made mimicking the actions of passionate hugging and kissing.

At this point, Ron was about ready to spit fire. "Bloody house-elves," he muttered, turning away.

He was about to turn away and continue his search when he noticed the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy trying to teach ballet to trolls. Looking at the tapestry for a moment, he tried to think back. He saw it several times as a teenager. He knew he had. But why?

He blinked and a light went off in his head.

"Excuse me, Binky," Ron said, feeling adrenaline buzz in his blood. He snatched Rose's picture out of the elf's hand and took three quick paces in front of the wall, watching as it slowly began to transform.

Giving the door a solid yank, he went in.


	10. Fight in the Room of Requirement

Her giggling fit subsided, and Rosie leaned up on her elbows. It was hard to determine if Scorpius' blazing cheeks were the result of embarrassment or rage but her trust in him overrode any sense of fear. She smiled, blushing in guilt about having laughed when she had promised not to. But Scorpius? In Hufflepuff? The thought had just been too irresistible.

"Ah," she sighed. She placed a hand on Scorpius' cheek, gently smoothing her thumb over his lips. "I'm sorry."

"Well," Scorpius said, giving her a weak smile. "I guess it was amusing. Maybe."

Rosie hummed, tilting her head upwards to offer her apology. He only paused a moment before accepting it, letting his breath wash over her before bridging the gap with a kiss.

Perhaps love is blind, or perhaps it is only dumb and careless. Neither teenager had thought to put up wards around the room, trusting in its seclusion and secrecy. Neither teenager seemed aware of the flickering of the fire as a door opened, causing unexpected wind to sweep into the room. Neither of them even registered the swish of robes rustling angrily through the silence.

Their reverie was only broken when Scorpius felt something grip his collar and jerk him away violently. The room spun viciously and Scorpius barely had time to register that he was being upended before he was slammed to the ground.

He only saw a flash of red hair before his eyes went into focus.

Rosie's father bent over him, hovering as if to strike, panting so hard that it felt like he was face to face with a raging bull rather than a human being.

"A Malfoy!" Ron growled. "I might have known!"

"DAD!" Rosie cried, jumping up from her position on the couch. "You don't understand!"

Scorpius squirmed under Ron's glare. "Please, Mr. Weasley! Don't-"

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING HERE WITH MY DAUGHTER! I THOUGHT I TOLD YOU AND YOUR FATHER TO STAY AWAY FROM MY FAMILY!"

"DAD!" Rosie grabbed at her father's back. "Don't! PLEASE!"

Ron turned to his daughter. "ON THE COUCH, ROSE! NOW! I WILL TAKE CARE OF THIS!"

"BUT DAD!"

"NOW!"

Rosie took a look at Scorpius, whose pleading eyes forced her back to the couch. Her father, normally a gentle man, was shaking in rage.

Scorpius tried to get to his feet, only to have a foot land on his chest. Ron's heel dug into his ribcage, keeping him firmly in place. "I will only ask this once, Malfoy. What kind of dirty trick are you trying to pull on Rose?"

"T-there's no trick, sir!" Scorpius gasped as the foot pushed down harder. "HONEST! I SWEAR!"

"BOLLOCKS!" Ron yelled. "Poison? Imperious? Some other death eater torture?"

"I'M NOT A DEATH EATER!"

"And I'm supposed to believe that you're just here? Having a nice cup of tea and discussing Quidditch? NOT. BLOODY. LIKELY!"

Ron drew his wand, quivering with rage.

"Please!" Scorpius cried. "Let me explain!"

"I will give you until the count of three…"

"Dad!"

"One."

"Mr. Weasley! I-" Scorpius was thin and wiry like his father, not able to buck off a man that was twice his size, age and experience.

"Two."

"Rosie and I-" If only Scorpius could reach his wand-

"Three!"

There was little time to attempt his defense, because at that moment, Rosie's father was lifted off him. His wand clattered to the ground.

"RON!" Harry bellowed, holding Ron back. "WHAT THE BLOODY HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING!"

Rosie landed next to Scorpius, hair tousled about her as she held onto him. "Scorpius! Are you alright?"

"I-I think so," he replied. He touched a hand to her face, wincing as he tried to sit up. There would be a boot-shaped bruise in the morning.

"GET AWAY FROM HIM, ROSE!" Ron yelled, still struggling in Harry's grip. "LET ME GO, HARRY!"

"NOT UNTIL YOU CALM DOWN!"

Harry was strong, but rage made Ron stronger. Watching as one arm twisted free, Scorpius drew his wand.

"Just as I thought!" Ron spat. "You going to hex me, Malfoy? Kill me? This a trap? Go on! Curse me! Show me what you're bloody made of!"

"BUT YOU ATTACKED ME!"

"WELL YOU WERE SNOGGING MY DAUGHTER!"

"DAD!" Rosie cried out, getting between her father and lover as Ron struggled in her uncle's arms. "I LOVE HIM! WE'VE BEEN SEEING EACH OTHER FOR MONTHS!"

"Right!" Ron spat. "And I suppose that he's promised you plenty in the past few months as well! Fame? Money? Power? Don't you believe a word he says! Although I'm sure he sounds pretty convincing, like the pureblood bastard that he is!" Ron snarled. "Did he tell you that he's engaged? That's right! He's been stringing you along! Will probably go off and sacrifice you to the next dark wizard that comes along!" He shot a death glare at Scorpius. "And I'll be damned if you lay your greedy, filthy hands on my daughter!" 

"HE LOVES ME, DAD!"

"HE'S INCAPABLE OF LOVE! HE'S A MALFOY!"

"Ron, you need to calm down!" Harry said, his grip beginning to give. He might not like the situation any better than Ron did, but he couldn't have him get sent to Azkaban in a fit of poor judgment. "James! Get

Rose and Scorpius out of here! I'll handle your uncle!"

Ron screamed. "NO! Rose! You stay here!"

"No, mate! You need to calm down!"

With that, Ron jerked himself completely free of Harry's grasp, picking up his wand and advancing on Rosie and Scorpius. Rosie tried to block the path, but Scorpius stepped in front of her. For a moment, the two men fought each other with their eyes, like panthers contemplating their next move. Scorpius could handle whatever Rosie's father threw at him, but he refused to have her father take it out on her.

Ron raised his wand, curse about to spew from his lips as James tugged both Rosie and Scorpius away. Now that Rosie was out of Ron's path, James took a hold of Scorpius' and pulled him towards the exit.

"ROSIE!" Scorpius called out. "James, let me go!"

"Cruci-"

"EXPELLIARMUS!" The teens froze in shock as Harry disarmed Ron, sending him flying backwards into the dining table. "GET OUT OF HERE! NOW!" he bellowed.

James, Rosie and Scorpius wasted no time in obeying.

-------------------

The headmistress sat back in her chair, lips pinched as she listened to the story unfold. Professor Longbottom had run into James Potter, Rosie Weasley and Scorpius Malfoy in the corridors and had called for them not to run in the hall. That was when they all started talking at once. He only caught bits and pieces of the babble, but he remembered the scene at dinner and rushed them off to the headmistress' office to report the incident. Sitting down in front of the desk, Scorpius looked about as wound up as a high-strung race horse. Neville stood behind him and placed a hand on his shoulder, feeling the muscles underneath jump before relaxing.

By the time the three children had stumbled out the story, even the portraits seemed shocked and confused.

Dobrinski sat there for a moment, staring hard at them. She leaned forward, eyeing Scorpius. "Mr. Malfoy, will you please lift the hem of your shirt?"

He glanced up at Neville, receiving a curt nod. Scorpius stood up, slowly undoing his robes with shaking hands. After a moment, he managed to pull up his jumper and his undershirt, revealing the beginnings of a heavy bruise.

"That will do, Mr. Malfoy," the headmistress said. Scorpius let his clothes drop back down. She stood up from her desk. "Miss Weasley. Mr. Potter. If you would be so kind as to escort Mr. Malfoy to the infirmary, I must attend to this issue. Professor, I believe that you have also once used to this Room of Requirement during your school years. Do you happen to remember its location?"

Neville gave a brief nod. "Of course."

"Then we shall waste no time," she said, grabbing her evening robes as she headed towards the door.

"What will you do?" Rosie blurted. "I mean, my dad was just upset!"

The headmistress turned to her. "I understand your need to protect your father, Miss Weasley, but I have a duty to this school. I will not tolerate anyone of authority attacking a student. I will do what I feel needs to be done. Also, I will also write a letter to your mother, to Mrs. Potter and one as well to Scorpius' father."

"NO! Don't tell my father!"

"I'm afraid I must, Mr. Malfoy. Though I'm sure that he will understand that such an attack was not provoked and that you are not at fault."

Scorpius' eyes widened as both Professor Longbottom and the headmistress left down the passageway. The attack wasn't the part of the story that he had been worried about.

------------------

The next morning, of course, was awkward. Rumor spread like wildfire about the attack as well as Rosie and Scorpius' relationship, which, over the course of several hours, evolved into something about vampires and Rosie carrying a child that was a cross between a centaur and a gorilla. Harry Potter sat at the head table with a notable empty seat just to the right of him. Privately, he informed the kids that Ron had been sacked and sent home. Harry would only be staying long enough to administer the defense exams and give a few lectures that he had already promised to fulfill.

"Now before you go on and ask me about what happened after you left," Harry said to Rosie as they sipped tea the next evening in his quarters, "I must say that it was very irresponsible of you to go off and not tell anyone where you were. You might trust Scorpius, but that doesn't necessarily mean that something wouldn't've happened."

"I'm sorry," she said, staring down into her untouched tea. "I didn't mean for this to happen."

Harry gave her a hardened look. "We all make mistakes, Rose. But your father could have shown more restraint. What he did was his own fault, not yours." He paused. "Rose?"

She looked up. His hardened look softened into a smile. "So, you've been seeing Scorpius for months, have you?"

Choking into her tea, she nodded. "Yes."

"Does anyone else know?" He said, lifting an eyebrow.

Slowly, she nodded.

"Albus, right?"

Nod.

"Why that little Slytherin!" Harry said with a laugh, slapping his hand down on the table. "I swear! I love the kid, but he's a sneaky little trick, that one!"

Rosie snorted into her tea. It felt good to laugh. She wondered if Scorpius was talking with Albus, lonely and miserable after the scandal. They were out to the school now but were afraid to go near each other until the dust settled. And there had been no reply yet from the letters the headmistress sent out.

Rosie felt as if she were on a cliff, teetering on the edge. She felt sadness welling up inside of her, despite the jovial atmosphere of her uncle's quarters. Part of her had hoped that her father would have accepted Scorpius if only he knew how much she loved him. For him to change his mind seemed unlikely, since it took several members of staff to convince her father that she should be allowed to finish her exams rather than coming home with him directly. Who knew what was waiting for her there when it really was time to come home?

She didn't realize she was crying until she felt arms wrapped around her. "Hey, now!" Harry said, embracing his niece. "It will be alright."

"No it won't!" Rosie sobbed. Scorpius' words rung back into her head. _That doesn't mean your father is any better, Rosie! He would kill me if he ever found out and would send you out of Hogwarts! _Unconsciously, she clutched at the locket that still hung from her neck. Through it all, it had never even entered her mind to take it off. "Will it always be like this? Is it just too wrong to love Scorpius? Why can't anyone understand?"

Harry pressed her fully against his chest, letting her cry it out. She felt her uncle petting her hair, gently rocking her. It should have felt soothing, but instead it felt as if a knife cut through her heart. Scorpius should be holding her. In a perfect world, their names wouldn't matter. They would just be two teens, going through school and planning their futures. They wouldn't have to worry about her father or his father or anyone's opinions. They would be free.

_If you don't think that's a prison, then you're wrong!_

What if Scorpius' father sent him away? What if he was disowned, all because of her? She had been stupid, asking him to give up everything for her. He deserved better! Not to be attacked, not to forfeit his money or name just to please her! If his father had been a prison, then she was the lock and key. What right did she have to demand anything from him?

Pressing her nose against her uncle, she sniffled. "Why does love have to be so hard?"

"That's just the way it is, I suppose," Harry said. His gentle sway never stopped, and Rosie began to feel calmed by the repetitiveness. "There's a muggle saying, you know: 'The path to true love never did run smooth.'"

"But you and Aunt Ginny never have any problems."

Harry snorted. "Oh, we've had our share. Quite a few rows as well."

Rosie sighed. She suddenly felt very sleepy. "Then how do you know it's true love if it doesn't always work like it's supposed to?" She tried to mask her yawn, but was not very successful.

He thought for a moment, then replied, "Because we always come back to each other. No matter how tough it gets, you know that if they love you, and you love them, that you will find your way back."

He slowed his rocking, letting himself stop gradually. They stood there for a moment, listening to the rain outside. Harry was about to ask Rosie if she felt better when he heard a sleepy, contented sigh.

Grinning, he lifted her in his arms and carried her over to the bed. She stirred, but didn't wake.

Tucking her in, he stood and watched her for a moment, noting how much she had grown. He still remembered her as a baby, toddling around with her chubby face and big bold eyes. He thought about his own children, wondering where years had gone. Age, it seemed, had made him into an old softie. He just hoped that he could keep that little secret to himself for at least a little while longer.

"Night, Rose," he whispered, kissing her forehead before going to the couch to retire.


	11. Of Rumors and Letters

Lily sat across the breakfast table from Rosie, hands folded innocently. Rosie, of course, was not buying it. Lifting up her glass of juice, she raised her copy of the Daily Prophet to block the view. Lily dropped her 'little angel' technique, pouted, then smacked the paper down. Patiently, Rosie raised it again.

Hating to be so blatantly ignored, Lily yanked the paper away completely, tossing it hard enough for it to go flying as far as the Ravenclaw table.

"What was that for?" Rosie yelled, watching the pages flutter to the ground. All except for one page, which landed on a very confused 2nd year.

Crossing her arms over her chest, Lily put on the most menacing face she could muster. "Why didn't you tell me about Scorpy?"

"_Scorpy?_ Excuse me?"

Lily rolled her eyes with theatrical flare. "You know!" She puckered her lips, pressing her palms together and rested her cheek against them. She heaved out a dramatic sigh, letting her voice drift into a mocking falsetto. "Smooch! Smooch! Lover boy!"

Rosie's lips drew into a thin line. Not trusting herself to reply, she focused on her hash and eggs rather on her cousin, who was not very good at handling the silent treatment.

Any normal person would have understood that the conversation was over. Any normal person would have spitefully muttered "fine" and go back to eating. Any normal person would sit back and try again later.

But who ever said that Lily Potter was normal, anyway? She was a stupid, annoying cousin with a big mouth and if you squinted just right, a little pimply.

"COME ON!" Lily said. "You're just mean and stupid!" Rosie snorted. "Oh! And jealous!"

"Jealous?! Of what?"

"ME! Cause you know that I could steal him from you and so you kept him away from me!"

"Oh please!" Rosie rolled her eyes. "Of all the immature-"

"HEY!"

"Childish-"

"I'm not childish!"

"Delusional rubbish!"

Lily went back to pouting. If her lip stuck out any further, Rosie would have no trouble reaching across the

table and giving it a yank. She resisted the urge, but only just barely. "Quit it," she said instead, returning to her forgotten breakfast. "You're causing a scene."

"We were a scene before you two started bickering," came an amused voice.

Rosie turned, seeing Scorpius standing behind her, holding a few errant pages of her newspaper. It was certainly a surprise to see him standing there, but less of a surprise to look around the hall and notice how right he was. Most eyes were on them, some more discreetly than others, but they were definitely being watched. Then again, it was not really a new sensation. Over the past two days, all she felt were eyes. Scorpius' eyes, however, seemed to burn into her the most.

He gave her a smile, then nodded toward the empty seat beside her. She scooted over. "Please," she said.

"Thank you." He sat down quite gentlemanly, pouring himself a glass of pumpkin juice. "I believe that these are yours," he said, handing over the slightly rumpled pages of the Daily Prophet.

"They are," she said, taking them. Instead of picking up where she left off, she set them aside, choosing to take her time in admiring Scorpius. An amused smile crept across his face.

"They're staring at us, you know."

"Oh, let them stare," Rosie replied, leaning forward to give the inhabitants of the great hall a real show.

Gasps rang out quietly in the hall as they kissed. Of course, it was over almost as soon as it started, but it was enough to fuel the fire that had spread through the castle over the past couple of days. Rosie and Scorpius were snogging. Which meant that they were dating. Which meant that the centaur/gorilla baby would be due sometime in late December.

Scorpius tilted his forehead against Rosie's, taking her hand and folding it into his own. Giving her one more kiss, he stood, letting his fingers uncurl from hers. When he let go, Rosie was holding a strip of parchment.

Giving her a wink, he went back to his own table, ignoring the confused ramblings of his tablemates. Rosie  
glanced over the note, safely tucking it into her robes before turning back to her own breakfast.

---------------------

Crossing the courtyard, Rosie passed by the on-lookers, who had generally decided that it was best to leave her alone. Although the rumors were flying, the Malfoy name still caused enough fear to keep people civil towards her. That at least was one benefit about the whole situation.

Exams were passing by quickly and proved to be a great distraction. It took her mind off the new-born drama in her life and all the other students were too wrapped up in their exams to pay her or Scorpius much attention.

Reaching the stairwell that led to the owlery, she felt a surge of excitement welling up in her chest. Grasping the locket in her hand, she remembered her uncle's words. _If they love you, and you love them, you will find your way back._

This had to work! It had to! No matter what her father did, no matter what he said, she knew this was right. Scorpius wouldn't desert her. What was one summer when they had their entire lives? If her father took her out of Hogwarts, she would leave. Wherever Scorpius took her, she would follow. Her mother would be

upset for abandoning her education, but it would be for the best. This was her life, her choice, and her passion. Nothing would stop her.

She found Scorpius standing in the night air petting Eule. The moonlight did wonderful things to him, illuminating his hair, bringing out the contrast from the dark weight of his robes.

She approached, letting herself reach out to one of the school's community owls. It gave a hoot as her hand roamed down its back, turning its head to nip at her playfully.

"Have you received a letter from your father yet?" Rosie asked, abandoning the owl.

"No," Scorpius said, studying his owl almost casually. "But I noticed that you got a letter in the post this morning. From your mother, I take it?"

Rosie gave a nod, removing the letter from her robes. When Sophie had arrived that morning, Rosie had expected a howler at the very least. Instead there was only an envelope with her mother's familiar cursive, just like the letters she received every week.

"What does it say?"

"I don't know. I haven't opened it yet."

Scorpius lifted an eyebrow, letting a sardonic smirk spread across his face. "Don't tell me you're afraid of what your mother will say, after that big to-do in the Room of Requirement."

"Alright," Rosie said, returning the smirk. "I won't tell you." But she turned over the envelope and opened it anyway.

_Dear Rose,_

_I hope this letter finds you well. The O.W.L.S are difficult enough as it is, and I'm sure that the catastrophe with your father was of no help. We have had a __very__ thorough discussion over the matter and your father is very sorry for his actions. We both agree that there were more efficient ways to have handled the situation._

_We have received a letter from Professor Longbottom as well, and he assures us that Scorpius is indeed a fine young man. Though I am disappointed that you did not feel safe in telling us about your relationship, I respect your decision. _

_I'm sorry that this letter is so short, but it has been hectic this week. Your father and I will be picking you up at King's Cross for the summer holidays and please tell Hugo to triple check his packing this year (I have already reminded him in his letter, but it never hurts to prompt him.) Give our love to Professor Longbottom, your cousins and your uncle Harry. _

_As always, we are proud of you as a daughter and as the beautiful young woman that you are becoming. _

_Love, Mom._

Rosie smiled, wiping her nose on the sleeve of her robes. Count on her mother to be so understanding.

Scorpius leaned in, trying to look at the parchment. Rosie handed it to him without argument, watching as his eyes skimmed over the page.

"I'm a fine young man, am I?" he said with a laugh. He handed it back, watching as she folded the letter back into the envelope. "Then maybe a do have a chance as Longbottom's assistant then. After my father disinherits me, of course."

Rosie's face fell. "You don't know that," she said. "You haven't heard back from your father yet. Maybe he's ok with us."

Scorpius shook his head. "Not hearing from him is a worse sign than a howler. He's planned out my life since before I was born. He's not about to be 'ok with us'." Scorpius went back to Eule, scratching the bird at the nape of its neck. "The longer the wait, the more trouble I know I'm in. I'm just waiting for the other shoe to fall."

"Oh Scorpius." Rosie stood there in a mix of shock and pity. That look made Scorpius itch, but if anyone could get away with it, she could.

"I'll be fine," he said, although he didn't necessarily believe those words himself. "The wait is usually worse than the punishment. Once he responds, the worst will be over. He'll yell and I'll be in my room for a month, but it'll be fine."

Rosie wrapped her arm around Scorpius from behind. He took hold of the arm across his chest and leaned into the touch, feeling her heartbeat pressing into his back.

"For your sake," she muttered into his skin, "I hope you're right."

Scorpius hugged her arm tighter. _For both our sakes _he mentally corrected.

------------------

Albus sat in the back compartment of the Hogwarts Express, listening to the endless chatter of other students boarding the train. Nobody really sat in this car, partly because it was near the loos but mostly because it always smelled faintly of mold and toad piss, no matter what kind of cleansing spells were used.

Since the day his dad and uncle arrived, he mostly kept to himself. His dad tried calling him to his quarters several times during the week, but Albus had ignored it. They saw each other during the Defense Against the Dark Arts exam, but Harry had kept a look of firm professionalism. Albus didn't dare bring up the fact that he was overdue for a 'discussion.' He thought it would have been brought up before he left the exam, but his dad merely told him that he had done a good job with his patronus and patted him on the back.

He then thought that his dad would have brought it up before he left after delivering his last lecture, but he hadn't.

Lost in thought, he hadn't noticed that most of the students had stopped milling around until the train lurched forward.

Sitting by himself was a new thing for Albus, even if he wanted the privacy. Usually he sat with his brother and sister or some schoolmates from his house, but not this year. He didn't feel up to it. He wanted to go talk with Rosie, but had found earlier that she and Scorpius had picked out a compartment quickly and had spelled the windows to block out any unwanted eyes and had locked the door to prevent intruders. Not that Albus blamed them. The whole school did nothing but obsess about the couple.

Speaking of couples, he had a sharp urge to go to the Ravenclaw car and go glimpse at his lover, but decided against it. They had agreed. Don't go public.

Still, the pull was strong. They were faced with two months apart and had lost the Room of Requirement. Thanks to Albus' big mouth, Scorpius and Rosie had monopolized it most of the time over the last week and a half, and now its location and use was public knowledge. Dobrinski not only forbade use of the room, but set up heavy wards around it, citing that it was too risky for student use.

Albus twitched in his seat. Whatever was waiting for him at home, it couldn't be good.

-------------------

The Hogwarts Express pulled into the station, steam hissing in all directions as it began to slow. Hermione, Ginny and Harry made sure that Ron stayed well away from Draco, who was presently waiting at the other end with a white-knuckled grip on Lucius' former, yet still extravagant cane. Ron had promised to be civil, but after he had attacked Scorpius, they couldn't be sure how well he could keep that promise.

1st years' faces pressed against the glass expectantly along with some stray 2nd and 3rd years, who had not quite crippled under the pressure of looking cool at the prospect of coming home. Lily was one such 3rd year, practically flying off the train when the train was at a practically reasonable pace and onto platform nine and three-quarters, rushing into her mother's arms.

"MUM!" she cried, latching onto Ginny with a crushing grip around her waist.

The other children, much too old to show such enthusiasm, chose to wait for the train to stop completely before returning to their parents.

As always, the station was swamped with students and parents alike. Not to mention owls, cats, rats, toads, trolleys, and younger siblings. The Potters and Weasleys were patient, now knowing the drill so well they could set their clocks by it.

Hugo and James were usually second after Lily, pockets bulging from their last-minute winnings from Exploding Snap. Rose third, giving each adult in turn a hug before going over her final test results with Hermione. Albus last, having been made to clean up whatever gods-awful mess he usually left in the Slytherin compartment.

James and Hugo did as expected, dropping sickles and chocolate frogs while discreetly trying to pocket them again. Harry gave his son a crushing hug as he always did, purposely crushing half of the goods just to make his point. Ron had a tendency to look the other way about it, as long as he got a cut on the sweets (which Hermione often banned from their home.)

By the time Rose appeared, it was much later than her normal time. She looked melancholy, but no one was particularly shocked by it. She glanced back at the train before turning to the adults, going through her ritual of hugs before stopping at her mother. Rather than discussing grades, Hermione scooped her daughter in her arms and welcomed her back to London.

Letting Rose and Hermione have their moment, Harry scanned the platform for Albus, who was also taking longer than usual. Taking a glance in Draco's direction, he saw his old nemesis check his watch irritably. Scorpius was also nowhere to be seen.

A few minutes more, the crowd was practically gone, and the members of the Potter/Weasley family were beginning to grow restless. Draco stood with his back stiff, cane propped out in front of him, his jaw set firmly. Year by year, Draco inherited more and more of his father's menacing presence. Harry felt a brief

pang of concern for Scorpius, hoping that Draco had not taken on some of Lucius' crueler parental habits that had been only been discovered after his death.

Knowing that Albus was Scorpius' dorm mate, he fully intended on putting any information his son could give him to good use, if push came to shove.

Finally, Albus and Scorpius appeared, but at wrong ends of the station. Albus would have to pass Scorpius' father and Scorpius would have to pass Albus' family. Why they did that, the parents could only guess, although through each boy's hesitating movements, it became clear that the purpose was to avoid the inevitable.

Harry saw Ron tense as Scorpius passed. He placed a hand on Ron's shoulder, but Ron showed no intent of attacking again.

Albus shot Draco a look, not flinching as cold, grey eyes glared right back at him. The green in his eyes twinkled, flashing warning. Albus obviously knew what was going to happen to Scorpius, or at least had a fair idea. Harry was tempted to go retrieve his son before either he or Draco did something foolish, but before he could move, Albus broke the eye contact and moved on.

When they reached each other, the boys stopped. It took only a moment, but without a word, Albus placed his right hand on Scorpius' shoulder and shook his hand with his left. Harry could just barely make out the words "write me" before they broke apart and made the slow journey back towards their respective parents.

"Albus!" Ginny said, giving her son a hug.

"MUM!" Albus said, muffled by Ginny's shoulder. "I can't breathe!"

Harry watched as Scorpius approached his father. He said something, causing his father to take a deep, angry breath. Draco stepped aside without speaking, making it clear that it was time to leave. A scrawny house-elf was left to deal with the enormous trolley as Scorpius followed his father to the car that was waiting for them.

Before entering, Scorpius tossed a look over his shoulder, eyes connecting with Harry's. Beneath the cold exterior was a young man who was absolutely terrified. His gazed drifted further. Harry followed it to find his niece at the other end, longing and concern written over her face.

Scorpius did not linger long, turning his head sharply back to the car. Giving a quick nod, he climbed in, shutting the door.

Once the house-elf had finished packing the trunk, the car sped away.

Harry prayed to Merlin that Scorpius would be alright.


	12. Return to Malfoy Manor

Compared to what I've done lately, I know that this is a really short chapter, but it didn't seem right to make it longer or attach anything to it.

-------------------

The ride home was quiet. Unnerving, really. His father simply sat there, looking straight ahead firmly, grasping his cane with such determination that it looked like his hands were cramping. He did not look out the window, did not even look at his son. Just straight ahead.

Scorpius, long-ago trained on how to react with his father, mirrored him. He did not watch London slowly melt away, did not gaze out the window to watch the English countryside that he so loved bleed into view. Like a dutiful son, he kept his eyes forward and his stature stiff. He was not going to show fear. He was not going to flag.

It felt like hours before they reached the Malfoy Manor, a home that was considerably dank and cold compared to Hogwarts. There had been a time when Scorpius had been proud to call it home, but now he knew a prison when he saw it.

The car stopped. His father waited for the door to open, allowing himself to stretch out his legs and unfold, arching his cane out in front of him before taking a measured walk to the front door. It opened without assistance and Draco Malfoy, in all of his authoritative glory, eased through the front entryway as if he did not have a disobedient wretch of a son in need of discipline.

Draco disappeared into his study. Unbidden, Scorpius knew his place well enough to follow until told otherwise. Casting off his cloak, Draco marched behind his desk, taking great care before seating himself, as he always did. Scorpius advanced, standing rigidly in front of the desk.

Draco took out his pipe, lighting his match and drawing the flame into the bowl, allowing the tobacco in the pipe to flare into a dull ember. Taking a few mediated puffs, he leaned back. For the first time since King's Cross, he looked at his son.

Scorpius did his best to remain stoic and alert as his father contemplated him. The room began to fill with smoke and he fought back a cough. Stiffening his spine, he stood with his chin up and shoulders squared. At some point, his father would lash out, and he was going to take it like a man.

Draco sat back, inspected his son carefully. His eyebrows knitted together, as if Scorpius was a puzzle, or perhaps an enigma. There he stood, a ball of nervous tension, yet still and impatiently to bear his punishment and be done with it. The boy looked as if he were a badly compressed spring, waiting to snap.

Just a few moments longer, then.

It was when Scorpius began to unconsciously bite his lip and fidget did Draco speak.

"Up to your room. At dawn we leave for Albania."

That was all he said. And as soon as he said it, he took his pipe and left Scorpius alone in the study.


	13. Three Forms of Torture

**Author's note: Given the reaction I got for Ron attacking Scorpius, I feel that it's only fair to warn you that Draco does torture his son in the second part of this chapter. Feel free to skip it if it irks you.**

-----------------

Rosie stared out the window, watching the scenery change as they drove further and further away from the heart of London. To say that she wasn't scared would be a lie. No matter what Scorpius said, his father could be fearsome at the best of times, and the resolve to walk away and be independent might deteriorate and scatter like dust. Though it pained her to admit it, the possibility of that happening was strong.

Thankfully, no one mentioned the Room of Requirement incident. Her mother prattled on endlessly, talking about grades and now that O.W.L.S. were over, it was not too early to consider studying for N.E.W.T.S. And yes, she knew that Hugo wanted to play Quidditch professionally, but what if that fell through? It would be best if he studied for a more stable career, like cousin Teddy, who was working abroad in Germany. And wouldn't it be wonderful to live in Germany, with all its history!

As per tradition, no one really paid attention to her ramblings. Her mother launched herself into an animated one-sided conversation about Bavarian wizard-lore, leaving the other inhabitants of the car in relative silence. It crossed Rosie's mind to be grateful that her mother wasn't a professor, otherwise they might never hear the end of it.

However, despite the voice in her head that told her that Scorpius would be lucky to be alive come fall, her main concern at the moment was her father, hands gripping the steering wheel. Usually he joked around, told her mother to breathe every once in a while, interrogated Hugo on every little detail on the Gryffindor Quidditch team. But he remained silent.

She almost wished that he had tried to go after Scorpius or his father. At the very least send a howler or yell at her when she got off the train. But the quiet was more telling of how much trouble she was in. A yelling, a grounding, _something_- meant that they could forgive and forget. Move on. What if he made good of his threat to take her out of Hogwarts? What if Scorpius' father locked him away and Rosie would never see him again?

No. They would come back to one another. Besides, what could possibly happen in two months?

---------------------

Scorpius had been half-mad with panic when his father left him in his study. When he got over his initial shock, he had stormed after his father in a way he hadn't done since he was a child. Screaming his throat raw, planning to make good on his promises to Rosie and stand-up to his father once and for all.

"I won't go to Albania! I won't marry Viedemal! I love Rosie Weasley!"

"You think that is what the world is about, boy?" Draco returned, chest constricting in controlled anger. "Love is a pathetic, foolish emotion. More likely to get you killed then benefit you!"

"Just like Mum then!" Scorpius balled his hands into fists. "That's the price she paid for being married to you! A nice hex in the chest! You let it happen, you murderous bastard!"

With that, Scorpius felt his body lift up an slam into the wall behind him. A painting fell to the ground, but he couldn't bring himself to care. Picking himself up, he took in his father's image, clutching his wand, eyes flashing danger.

"You will mind me and the memory of your mother," he hissed. "I did not raise you to disobey me."

Scorpius approached his father and spat. "Fuck you," he gritted out. A smack rang out a split-second later, causing Scorpius' head to spin. The sting pulsed through his cheek.

"Is that the best you got?" Scorpius cried. More and more, the pain that his father gave him settled into his stomach as pure hatred. "Throwing me against a wall and a slap on the face? You're losing your touch, old man!"

Scorpius let out a scream as pain ripped though him, causing him to collapse on the ground, fire sweeping over his limbs and into his belly. He twisted in agony, writhing helplessly until his father released Scorpius from the curse's grip.

Getting up, Scorpius staggered to his father. Every thread in him begged for rest, but he resisted. No. His father could not take him down with one torture curse.

One flick of Draco's wrist and Scorpius fell again, arching his back and clawing at the ground in fever. The scream, even in his head, seemed to shatter the walls. No. His very being. Somewhere, a malevolent hiss erupted in the room, seeming to split in two and rake over his body. Such pain, as he had never felt before, seemed to go on forever, even after the curse lifted.

Barely able to lift his head, he looked up at his father, who merely stood over him as if he hadn't just tortured his own son repeatedly. Scorpius felt his heart skip pathetically, as if it might never recover from such an awful blow.

"If I have to drag you to Albania in a casket, then so be it," Draco snarled. He turned sharply, leaving Scorpius on the floor.

-------------------

Much later (how late, Scorpius wasn't sure) he found himself waking up in his bed. He tried to roll over, but even his eyes felt stiff and misused.

"Ah! Master Scorpius is awake. Mipsy was most worried for Master Scorpius."

If it wouldn't have hurt him so much, Scorpius would have smiled. Mipsy, one of the few house-elves who wanted to stay after the new anti-slavery laws, had been with the family since Scorpius was a toddler. Mipsy was probably the one lovable thing in all of Malfoy Manor.

"Master Draco would be most aggrieved with Mipsy if he knew that Mipsy takes his potions," she said. She took Scorpius' jaw in her hand and tipped the contents of a small vial in his mouth. "But Mipsy hates seeing her young master in such pain."

The relief was almost immediate, the pain dissipating into a dull ache. He let out a sigh, feeling the sharp

twinge in his head die down. "Thank you, Mipsy," he said, easing himself up.

"Oh no, Master Scorpius!" Mipsy cried. "Master Scorpius is much too weak to be roaming about. Master must lay back and rest. Masters have a long journey tomorrow!"

"I can't stay here," Scorpius said. He staggered a bit as the room tilted. "I can't go to Albania, Mipsy. One day, my father will understand." The floor seemed to disagree with him however, as he saw the wall threaten to spin off its foundations.

Mipsy gave him a gentle push backwards, causing him to fall onto the bed again.

"Young master is not so well. Master's potion has not taken full effect yet. Master Scorpius must remain in bed until he can walk."

Scorpius wanted to protest, but knew it was useless. There was no point in rushing. No point in causing himself more injury. He rolled his head to the side, biting off the wave of nausea. The clock read 3am. There was so little time.

"Mipsy, how long will it take the potion to finish?"

"Only an hour, sir. Only an hour. But it is useless, sir. Master Draco put up wards and spells. Master knows that master Scorpius will try to leave. Mipsy tried, sir, to find a hole in the barrier for young master." She revealed her reddened hands. "Mipsy tried, but they are strong."

Scorpius placed a hand on Mipsy's shoulder. "Thank you Mipsy. But if you can help it, please don't hurt yourself because of me. Understand?"

"Yes sir." Mipsy replied. "Mipsy knows how much it displeases Master Scorpius."

Knowing that there was too little time and that he was too weak to try to break through his father's wards, Scorpius resigned himself to a restless sleep. In the morning, he'd try his escape.

---------------------

Albus was a big, fat coward. Openly admitting it to himself, he felt a lot better. He and his father said nothing at the station or in the car and the moment they got home, he ran up to his room and locked the door, hiding in his closet like a muggle child frightened by a ghost.

Almost sixteen and ready to mess his pants over a little discipline. How utterly pathetic. He couldn't hide forever. _Oh well_ he thought. _I've got all summer. _

Watching his son sprint up the stairs, Harry snorted in amusement. Whatever was in Albus' head was probably loads worse than anything that Harry might intend for him.

"Oh honestly, Harry," Ginny sighed. "You'd think by now he'd know better. How long are you going to let him stew?"

He went into the kitchen, turning on the kettle to make himself some tea. "As long as it amuses me, I guess," he laughed. "It won't hurt him to let him sweat it out a bit."

"Harry-" Ginny said, crossing her arms. "Talk to your son before he starves himself and goes completely nutters."

"Too late," James retorted, sauntering into the kitchen. Throwing open a cupboard, he grabbed a package and opened it. He shoved a digestive into his mouth. "He's already a Slytherin. That'd turn anyone 'round the bend."

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Hush, you." With a flick of her wand, the package of digestives flew out of James' hands and back into the cupboard. It slammed shut. "You'll ruin your supper."

"Will not!" he said, giving the cupboard door a yank. The handle transfigured itself into a hand and smacked James on the wrist, wagging a finger at him before transfiguring back. "Hey!"

"Go unpack," Ginny instructed, giving James a push out the door. "Honestly," she muttered once he was out of earshot. "Those little sods will make me go grey before I'm 50."

Harry was a wise enough man not to mention the fact that she already had streaks of white in her hair. He thought it made her unbearably attractive, but still. As many near-death experiences as he had, he knew when to keep his mouth shut.

For the next two days, Harry let Albus rot in his room, awaiting punishment. It was getting excessive, really. But he was happy to note that food was missing from the icebox, so that meant that Albus was eating. And there were no bad smells coming from the room, so that meant that Albus was using the lavatory (thank Merlin).

To be honest, Harry hadn't planned on a punishment at all. Considering all that happened, he didn't think that Albus' behavior warranted anything stronger than a mild lecture and a bit of hair-ruffling. Like Harry, Albus' worst punishments were always self-inflicted. Guilt, anticipation and time seemed to be more efficient forms of discipline than any lecture, physical labor or corporal punishment. Albus had a talent for doing himself in, this particular time was a fine example of case in point.

At this point, Harry was more bothered by the fact that Albus had avoided him at Hogwarts and now in his own house. Of course he wanted his children to tell the truth when he asked them for information, but Ron had been notably upset and Albus (according to Rose) had promised not to tell anybody, especially the adults, until they were ready. Besides, if Albus had told Ron about the Room of Requirement, that meant for sure that Rose and Scorpius would be caught, rather than just suspected.

Harry might not have liked being lied to so blatantly, but he could understand his son's need to protect his friends. He would have done the same thing at that age. In fact, he had done worse.

_Stop that._ Harry slapped himself mentally. _I'm passed that. _

He figured one more night wouldn't hurt, but after hearing some stomping around upstairs (teenage theatrics) during supper (which Albus had not attended) Ginny threw down her napkin and threatened to send an owl to have the ministry to put Harry on dementor duty if he didn't go talk to his son _this instant._

Harry sighed, pushing himself away from the table. _And she'd do it. _He thought bitterly, remembering the last time he was put on dementor duty back during his training days. As humorous as it had been at the time to watch his very pregnant wife trying to put on stockings, it had not been appropriate to point and laugh. Certainly bad form to take photographs and pass them around.

He climbed the stairs finding that Albus was back in his room. He tested the knob. Locked.

Harry rolled his eyes. Really now. You'd think he was some reeking troll rather than a father by the way Albus acted. "Al," he called, knocking on the door. "It's Dad. Open up."

A loud over-acted snore came from the other side. Harry drew his wand. He wasn't believing the innocent act for a second. Hell, he _invented _it.

"Alohomora."

He opened the door slowly, noting that Albus was on his stomach, laying much too still for someone who was supposed to be, for all intents and purposes, sleeping.

Harry stood over his son, contemplating the best way to go about this. Bucket of cold water? No. Too messy. A telling off? No. He won't be able to keep a straight face.

Tilting his head to the side, Harry nibbled on the tip of his wand. Without warning he came to a conclusion.

He sat on Albus.

Albus let out a surprised huff of breath, he didn't have time to think before his father flipped up the bottom of the blanket and gave him five sharp smacks on the rump.

Harry twisted his torso to look at his flabbergasted son.

"There. You've been officially punished. Now come down to supper and stop acting like a prat."

Harry ran a rough hand through Albus' hair before getting off his back and leaving.

Giving his bum a quick rub, Albus followed.


	14. Leaving for Albania

"Petrificus Totalus!"

Scorpius woke to find himself totally stiff. His eyes, the only part of him left able to move, glared up at his father, who wore a look of snide satisfaction.

"Given your recent behavior, I think it's best if we travel this way." Draco fitted his wand back into his robes. "Kreul," he said coolly. "See to it that Scorpius is ready in an hour."

Draco left, leaving Scorpius alone with a gnarled, bat-like house-elf. Its back was hunched and twisted from years of bowing. Of course, Mipsy had been his mother's elf. Kreul was his father's and he took a great deal of pride in that fact.

Tugging the blanket from Scorpius, he let his nails rake across his feet, leaving thin, pink lines in their wake. "Master Scorpius was very bad yesterday. Very bad indeed," Kreul said slowly. Sadistic pleasure could be heard deep in his throat.

Kreul dressed him roughly, not that Scorpius expected the house-elf to handle him delicately. He spent the time needling Scorpius, lacing his words with barely disguised insults. After calling the Weasley family a maggot-infested nest of filthy half-bloods, Scorpius wished he knew how to perform wandless spells, seething in anger. Kreul only chuckled darkly, tugging at Scorpius' trainers just a tad too rough.

"But yes…" Kreul hissed. "Soon we'll be rid of the mudblood problem, won't we, Master? Master Scorpius won't have that filthy Weasley halfblood to soil himself with. Oh no. Kreul knows what Master does. Kreul knows."

Scorpius felt a chill course through his spine.

Kreul, of course, noticed. "Is Master frightened? Master Scorpius is reckless. Reckless. Yes." He twisted Scorpius in the bed, bending his arms roughly to put him into traveling robes. "Mistress Viedemal, most unpleasant with Kreul's master. Is eager. Very eager. Mistress can not wait. Not while mudbloods threaten to take Mistress' playthings."

He flashed Scorpius a disturbing smile, revealing a cave of sharp, pointed teeth, half of which were rotted out. Dragging a nail along Scorpius' jaw, he eased off before drawing blood. "Young master has promises to fulfill. Yes. Kreul knows young master's fate. Kreul was there to see it begin. Yes."

"That will be enough, Kreul," came Draco's voice from the doorway.

Giving Scorpius' laces one last yank, Kreul backed off before retreating behind Draco.

Without another word, Scorpius felt himself being lifted into the air, floating out the door and down the staircase. Passing out the front door, he felt his limps fold as he was tucked into the carriage.

Draco said nothing, only climbing into the carriage and shutting the door. Kreul was left behind, slinking off into the Manor. Scorpius hoped that Mipsy would be alright alone with him.

The carriage lurched forward. Draco gave it a tap with his wand, causing (as Scorpius knew from experience) the carriage and its passengers to become invisible to all outside eyes. The carriage took off from the ground, bumping a bit before leveling itself out, easing the course of the ride.

Kreul's words were sinking into Scorpius, slowly and surely. A number of scenarios popped in his head, but he only came to the same conclusion. This was simply not a visit to Albania. Viedemal was growing impatient. She was threatened. There was only one way to secure Scorpius without destroying everyone and everything around. This was a wedding.

He struggled against the body-bind. Nothing more happened then a very strained whimper emanating from the base of his throat. Draco cast a suspicious look at his son and re-enforced the spell casually. Scorpius tried to make another noise, but the effort died quickly. It was very tiring.

"By now, you have probably guessed the purpose of our trip, and the consequences of your actions with the

Weasley girl." He gave Scorpius a searing gaze, but his voice remained passive. "By tonight, you will be married to Viedemal. Even if you have to speak the vows under the use of the Imperious curse, you will speak them, and you will serve your new bride faithfully. Not that you will have a choice in the matter." Draco looked out the window. "I would have preferred to have waited until you completed your 7th year, since that was part of the original arrangement, but it is clear that we can not risk taking our time. Besides, Viedemal is growing hungry, and you must be there to fill her needs."

_Too young! Too young! _his mind screamed at him. He wouldn't come of age for another year. But he also knew the law well enough to remember that, with parental permission, someone who is underage can marry.

If Scorpius could have twitched or squirmed, he would have. Needs? Not sexual, with any hope. He couldn't bear the thought of anyone but Rosie touching him, forget some faceless bride from Albania.

"You will, of course, return to Hogwarts this Autumn. You made quite a show, and while I was hoping to keep these proceedings quiet, we can not risk rousing further suspicion." Draco spared a glance at his son, making sure that the bonds were holding, no doubt. "Viedemal is most anxious, as am I, to finish this… union." Draco bit back his words as if they disgusted them.

_Fine_, Scorpius thought. _I hope he chokes._

Half wishing to know more so he could devise a way out, half wishing for the carriage to fall out of the sky, thereby ending the problem then and there, nothing happened but blanketed silence.

Scorpius, left to his own thoughts, was not comforted. By all means and respects, he expected this trip to end in his death, or at the very least, be removed from the wizarding world. For a moment, he feared for Rosie and her family, but immediately refused to panic himself. Her father and uncle were both famous aurors. They had defeated Voldemort back in the day, so obviously they knew how to keep themselves safe. However convincing his own argument was, he still made a mental note to send an owl in warning, just in case.

As if reading into Scorpius' mind, Draco spoke again. "As for this… Weasley girl. She will remained unharmed as long as she makes no further interferences into our plans. But if I were you," he warned, voice heavy "I would not dare to test Viedemal's _better nature_."

The rest of the ride was left in bitter silence.


	15. The Wedding

It was unbearably hot by the time they arrived in Albania, even through it was late afternoon and cooling off. Heat bled through the carriage, making Scorpius feel a little sick to his stomach.

They floated down to the ground, landing gently into a grassy field. Scorpius felt, once again, a lifting sensation as he was levitated out the carriage, finding himself soaring into a small house, covered in moss and vines, but on the whole it was intact. He was deposited unceremoniously onto the floor of a room in the back, feeling the body-bind lift off of him as the door closed behind him.

For a moment, all he could do was lay there, muscles screaming in agony over being forced into one position for so long. After a long moment, he began to prop himself up, gingerly stretching out his sore limbs as he went along.

As he got used to moving again, he took in the room. Very old and expensively furnished, but the musty smell gave the impression that it had only just been recently wiped free of an inch of dust. The curtains were mahogany-colored and vaguely moth-eaten. The rugs were broad and once plush, now worn down and faded. A small canopied bed, neatly made, rested in one corner, a grayish twinge of yellow staining the pillowcases. A lone candle was lit on the desk, bathing the room in a warm, delicate light that was surprisingly bright.

Gripping the armoire for support, Scorpius hauled himself to his feet, closing his eyes as dizziness passed over him. His stomach lurched pitifully. Having not eaten that day, he was feeling decidedly weak, but he didn't dare touch the goblet or the plate of biscuits on the bedside table. As tempting as it was, he had to remember that he had been brought here by his father, to marry someone unknown wench, who was, as Scorpius remembered, not happy with him at this particular moment.

Scorpius stood for a moment, tilting precariously. He felt absolutely exhausted, even though he knew that this would be the perfect opportunity to find a means of escape, the bed seemed more and more tempting and the candle-light was burning his eyes.

Staggering, he almost collapsed unto the blankets but stopped when a pile of black fabric, neatly folded at the foot of the bed, caught his eye. Sitting down (causing a fine sheen of dust to rise in his wake) he took the pile of clothes in his arms and began to unfold them.

It was really a testament to his exhaustion, although it was only logical that they be there, it still gave him a shock. In his lap he opened the ceremonious wedding robes, complete with a soft, ivory-stitched collar and mother of pearl buttons. He traced his fingers over the lapel, marveling over the intricate embroidery, the sheer detail in the elegant craftsmanship. Turning his gentle touch into a white-knuckled grasp, he gave a long, slow shudder. He ignored the pain that he gained from forcing his weakened grip, allowing tears to prickle into his vision.

This nightmare, it was real. Tangible. He expected this day with dread for so long, only to cherish it when he dared replace Viedemal for Rosie, replace the foreboding Albanian mountains for the rolling Wiltshire country-side. The world seemed to crash around him as his dreams fell apart.

He threw the robes onto the floor, lifting himself up. His body screamed at him to take it slow, but he ignored it. This was no time for pain or weakness. He could heal later. Right now his main concern was to get away from this hell-hole and find his way to the authorities. Maybe back to Hogwarts, where he knew that the headmistress would take him seriously and get him away from this.

Apparation was his first thought, but that was quickly squashed. He hadn't the foggiest idea of how to go about it. What made the situation even trickier was the fact that he had no wand, no way to get out magically. The door would be the fastest solution, but also the most obvious. Not the wisest move, all said and told.

He headed towards the curtains, pulling them open. He reached for the lock, only to wrench back from the searing burn. Draping the hem of his robes over his hand, he tried again, only to have the effect repeated. Swearing, he looked for something to throw that he would be able to lift.

After the goblet, one hefty book and finally, the candle, Scorpius fell to the ground shaking, sweat rolling down his neck. In the dark he drew his legs towards his chest, he let out a shuttered breath. Impossible. Impossible. The room was warded heavily. There was no way out.

Before he could let out a frustrated sob, the door cracked, light slicing into the room. Footsteps thundered toward him and he gasped as he was gripped by the collar and hauled to his feet.

"Foolish child!" Draco hissed though clenched teeth. Scorpius scrambled to keep himself steady he was pushed toward the bed. "Crying pathetically in the dark! We have work to do!"

Scorpius fell against the bedding, coughing through the fine dust. In a fearsome grip, Draco pulled him upright, hand twisting painfully tight in Scorpius' shirt. "Let go of me!" he cried.

Draco obeyed, letting his son knock his head against the footboard. "Get dressed," he commanded.

"I'm not marrying Viedemal!"

"You. Have. No. Choice," Draco spat out.

"What's so important about this bloody marriage anyway?" Scorpius gasped out.

"That is none of your business! Now dress!"

"HOW IS IT NONE OF MY BUSINESS?" Scorpius roared. "IF I'M MARRYING HER AGAINST MY WILL, I DESERVE TO KNOW WHY!"

"You don't deserve anything, you insolent brat!" Draco gripped Scorpius again, tearing off his traveling cloak. "I give you a roof over your head, an education, nice clothes and you think you deserve any of it? Accio dress-clothes!" The armoire opened, allowing knit trousers, a white collared shirt and oxfords to sail towards them. "Quit fussing or I'll petrify you again!" Draco warned. Scorpius squeaked in protest as his father pulled at his shirt. "We don't have house-elves here to do this, so either I will dress you or you can do it."

"STOP!" Scorpius said, tugging his shirt back down, his cheeks flushing in exertion and embarrassment. "Just- just give me a minute, alright?"

Draco backed off, taking a sharp intake of breath as he calmed himself. "We will be expecting you in five minutes." With that, he turned on his heel and marched out the door.

----------------

It took roughly ten minutes for Scorpius to leave the room. He entered the parlor to find his father, foreboding and clutching his cane in front of him, both hands clasped over the top as his watched his son enter the room.

Striding over to his father, Scorpius gave him a leveling look. The wedding robes were thick and obviously first-class, which made this moment all the more twisted and wrong. He felt like a child playing dress-up.

They stared at each other for a long moment. Draco opened his mouth as if he meant to say something, then closed it. Instead, he took one hand off of his cane and reached for Scorpius.

Scorpius knew better than to pull away or wince, but closed his eyes braced himself for the pain that would inevitably follow.

The pain, however expected, did not come. Rather, he felt a long, elegant hand close over his shoulder, giving him comforting squeeze before lifting. Scorpius opened his eyes in surprise, feeling his father's hand move from his shoulder to his lapel, casually straightening the crooked collar.

"You may not like the circumstances, but this is your wedding day, after all," Draco said in a hushed clipped tone, but it lacked its usual venom. Scorpius looked into his father's eyes, curious. Beneath the harsh, cold demeanor, there was melancholy; resignation of a man who was unsure of the outcome. Maybe, if he wanted to admit it to himself, he saw fear swimming in his father's eyes.

Realization hit Scorpius like a bucket of iced water. His father was afraid. He wasn't just being a cold, heartless bastard. There was something else, and this suddenly terrified him. It was one thing for Scorpius to be afraid, it was another to have this man, someone always in control, for good or bad, to show that look of concern and worry. Then something other than the swelled heat of the evening blazed through Scorpius.

There truly was no hope.

"Dad," Scorpius whispered in a voice that felt much too young to be his. At any other moment, he would have winced at such a childish word. Now, he couldn't think of anything else to say. "Please Dad," he said, biting his lip. "Tell me what's going on?" He began to shake. "I wish my mum was here-" he muttered to himself.

Draco steeled himself, look of fear quickly drawing back. His eyes still flashed concern. It was one emotion that could not seem to be reigned in. "Your mother would have been-" but Draco stopped before he could finish the sentence. He seemed torn, some of his resolution fading away. "Come," he said, placing his hand once again on his son's shoulder, this time steering him. "It's time."

Scorpius, too tired to argue, walked.

----------------------

Father and son walked out of the house, Draco gently guiding Scorpius in front of him. The sun had begun to set over the hilltop, illuminating them in a harsh orangish-pink glow. Scorpius dared himself to look up, eyes adjusting slowly to the scene before him.

Acres of green laid before them, mossy and under any other circumstance, it could almost be considered breathtaking. The smell of the sea wafted under Scorpius' nose, drifting into him a feeling off light-headedness. Before them, the landscape blossomed into a small hill, the crest swelling before him. At that swell stood a podium and two figures. One man in officiator's robes, the other, a smaller figure, draped in a cream-colored veil, holding a single crimson rose.

Scorpius drew in a breath, a wave crashing distantly ringing in his ears. He was about to turn and run when he heard something else, or rather felt it.

A low, soft hiss washed over his skin. Almost human, it seemed to speak to him.

"Scorpius…"

Suddenly, he felt calm, at ease. That voice, that hiss. He had heard it before.

"Scorpius…"

Barely a whisper, as if it was tickling him, scratching his ear with a small, delicate touch.

"Come to me, Scorpius…"

As if under some other power, Scorpius began to walk forward, slowly and steadily towards the podium.

"Yes… Scorpius…"

The sun dipped lower in the sky. The ground grew darker.

In a daze, he followed the voice, lolled in by it. If it hadn't been so seductive, at any other time, he would have sworn that he was being bewitched.

He took his place in front of Viedemal and gazed at her, but she was still shrouded in her robes.

"We gather here today," the wizard said, his voice mild and deep. "To wed Scorpius and Viedemal, in matrimony."

Words poured over them, but Scorpius wasn't paying attention to words. The world was fading away into black, and for some reason, he couldn't remember why he had been opposed to this. He looked over his bride, looking for something, anything other than robes. Skin. Hair. Lips. But she kept quiet and still, barely moving even to breathe. All he could see was the crimson rose, but the hand hold it was obscured by fabric. Scorpius' mind spun. Nothing before seemed so good to him, so right. In his mind, it occurred to him that this was the most spectacular sight he had ever seen.

The wizard's speech seemed to go on forever, but Scorpius couldn't bring himself to care. If that meant that this beautiful moment could last forever, then so be it.

Alas, not all things can last forever. He jumped when the wizard said "Do you, Scorpius, take Viedemal to be your bride?"

"I do," he heard himself say.

"Do you, Viedemal, take Scorpius to be your husband?"

She nodded.

"Take hands."

Scorpius gasped as he saw one delicate white hand lift from the robes, limp and waiting. Almost eagerly, he took the hand in his.

The wizard lifted his wand, emitting a soft, blue mist that enveloped their hands. It twisted and turned around their fingers, linking them together. It began to glow, reaching up into their sleeves, tingling over their bodies.

The wizard broke the connection from his wand, and the mist began to sink into their skins. Once the mist faded away, Scorpius felt something cold and metal form around his left ring finger.

"You may kiss the bride."

Breath shuddering, Scorpius reached forward, careful not to upset his wife, and lifted the veil. He drew back his hands almost immediately after it was drawn away from her face.

She looked at him, brown eyes, the distinct color of rich chocolate, seemed to penetrate him deeply. He lips, cherry-red and luscious, were parted. Her skin, so pure, so fragile. Her hair, raven-black and full, falling in soft waves around her as the locks were released from the cloth.

In short, she was the most luminous, gorgeous thing he had even seen.

They kissed, although he wasn't sure how the bridge was gapped between them. He almost felt that he was drawn in by some invisible hand, something pulling him down to caress her lips with his own. She tasted of something sweet and dark, inviting.

Slowly, he felt something else. It invaded him, latching onto something deep inside him and tugging in the pit of his stomach.

The light-headed feeling returned, energy seeming to pull out of him, but not enough to cause worry. It drew out of his belly and up his throat, drifting away from him and into Viedemal, who drank from him, his essence, deeply.

As quickly as it started, it ended. Scorpius rocked forward as the connection broke, all at once feeling exhausted again. He steadied himself, only to blink slowly at his bride, who was grinning.

She handed him the rose.

"Scorpius…" she breathed.


	16. Want and Worry

It had been a month. One month since the end of her 5th year at Hogwarts, since the Room of Requirement, since the O.W.L.S. One month since she said goodbye to Scorpius.

Rosie sat in her room, sitting at the window ledge with her cheek against the pane. From her second floor view, she could see muggle children playing with her cousins and brother near the lake in the distance, one chubby kid lagging behind as the others ran around.

Normally, she spent her summers with the other kids in the neighborhood, volunteering at libraries or helping at the local camp. Last summer she even went to the ministry to help in the muggle-management departments. Learn the trade and all. Her summers were always fun, a great break away from the schedules of school, even if she was still working.

This year, she couldn't bring herself to care. She let her eyes drift shut, the mid-day sun flashing against them just a bit too harshly.

She took a deep breath. Sleep was rare this summer, which didn't really surprise her, and part of her didn't care. There were dreams. Some happy. Some seductive. Some odd. And some just frightening. Sometimes Scorpius would appear from nowhere, handing her a rose and whispering sweet nothings in her ear. In those dreams she was very conscious of the locket that she kept around her neck. In other dreams, the Room of Requirement would be waiting for them, and there would be no Albania and her dad would give them his unconditional blessing. Other times, she imagined running off, setting up home in the Forbidden Forest, visiting Hagrid and living out her life peaceful and alone. More than once, her old dream of living as a muggle cropped up in her mind, with the novelties of washing her own dishes and mowing a perfectly gnome-free lawn.

Then there had been one particularly odd dream of seeing Professor Longbottom in a ballet costume, being carried off by cornish pixies while singing opera, clutching a wailing Mandrake for accompaniment; which was enough to make Hugo choke on his jam and toast when she told him about it the next morning.

The joke was strained and died quickly. Rosie kept her head down and took a few small bites of porridge and barely touched her juice. She left as soon as she could, taking her dishes to the sink and retiring to her room, her sanctuary. Friends wrote her, classmates and the like, but her replies back were feeble at best. It began to trickle down to one letter a week, and at this rate, there would be nothing but her O.W.L.S grades to look out for. With any hope, she might receive a letter from Scorpius. But as much as she willed Eule to come through her window, he never came.

One month and still no word.

Dragging her foot listlessly over the carpet, she kicked a piece of wadded parchment, watching it collide into and roll over other scraps. Rosie normally kept her room neat, but she was slacking. Letter after letter littered the floor, imperfect, unsent, unread. Her school books and summer homework were piled on the desk, but she couldn't bring herself to work on them. There was so much she wanted to say, but Sophie had been unable to deliver the first few letters that Rosie tried to send. However, it still eased her mind to write things out, even if no one else ever saw them.

Shuffling through the mounds of papers, Rosie pulled the curtains closed and laid down.

----------------------

"I swear, if anyone told me how hard it would be to have teenagers, I would have stayed celibate," Ginny sighed, helping herself to more tea.

Harry quirked an eyebrow. "Now now. Let's not say anything too rash," he said.

"Honestly, Harry. It's all Lily can talk about. That bloody magazine that you promised to do an interview for," she said, plunking two cubes of sugar in her tea with unnecessary force.

"I never promised her anything of the sort."

Ron snorted. "Like you're ever able to say 'no' to her."

"And one more comment about my lack of fashion sense and I'll transfigure all of her clothes into potato sacks. You see if I don't!" Ginny tossed her spoon down on the plate so hard that it gave an obnoxiously loud clank. "And OY! and the bloody mood-swings!" Ginny went on. "James made a joke about her hair and first she waled him in the gut and then burst into tears."

"Well," Hermione interjected. "She is the youngest with two older brothers after all."

"I was the youngest with _six_ older brothers any never got that emotional."

"But you were also an expert caster of the bat-bogey hex," Ron laughed, rubbing his nose.

Ginny grinned mischievously. "Well, you know how it is. Better to get even than mad."

"You sure must have had a lot to get even for with Fred and George then." Ron leaned over to Harry, loudly whispering "There was a time where all they did was sneeze out miniature bat wings." They shared a knowing grin.

"And Al!" Ginny proclaimed, completely ignoring Ron, "You should have heard him that first week! Stomping about, moody…Spent more time locked up in his room than any teenage boy should…"

Ron looked over at Harry, a slight smirk gracing his lips. Harry gave him a lecherous smile. Obviously, they both remembered being almost 16 and finally having a room to yourself after 10 months of sharing a dorm. Never mind that Albus had thought that his father had been out to get him. Or that he had had the Room of Requirement at his disposal for about two years.

Ron reached for the plate of biscuits, taking a small handful of the chocolate-caramel. "Well, Hugo's been doing fine. At least there's that."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "All he talks about is Quidditch. Always practicing that Wonky-feet-"

"Wronski Feint," Harry, Ron and Ginny said together.

"Whatever," Hermione said. Peering over the table, she grabbed the small pitcher of cream and stood up. She carried it over to the icebox, taking out a carton to refill the small container.

"Well," Ron said, "I think it's perfectly normal."

"He needs to work on his grades," Hermione clipped.

"Quidditch is a bloody good career! Besides, he's a brilliant player (like his old man, naturally)! Come on, Gin," Ron gave Ginny a poke. "Back me up on this one. You played for the Harpies. You know how it is!"

"Brother dear," Ginny said in a tone that was all too sweet to be trusted. "He certainly didn't get his Quidditch skills from you, otherwise he'd be the hospital wing until he's old enough for retirement."

"Hey! One bad try-out the Canons and they never let you forget it!" Ron protested, muttering something under his breath that suspiciously like 'shoddy itch.'

Once again, Ginny ignored him, taking on her 'serious mother' tone. "She's right, you know." Ginny gave a nod to Hermione. "The chances of someone making it onto a professional Quidditch team is slim, even with talent and good connections. He can't just fly around and then have no back-up plan." Ron gave a disgruntled grumble. "Besides, the average player only has a nine year career. Twenty-six and no practical job? He'll be draining gutters and living in your attic in two months time."

Harry snorted into his tea, imagining Hugo as a forty year old paunchy, scraggly-looking man in snitch-covered pajamas among towering stacks of comics and old magazines in Hermione and Ron's attic. Which was currently the fate of Dudley, the last time he checked (although with bigger and snitch-free pajama's and an entirely different attic).

Ron seethed, crossing his arms over his chest. "I swear, this is the last time we invite you over for tea," he huffed. Of course, as always, there was no true conviction behind it.

"Nonsense," Hermione said as she sat back down. "Just because you can't-"

She stopped, looking up towards the ceiling. From upstairs, they could hear Rose's door quietly opening, footsteps going down the hall toward the second story lavatory. Harry and Ginny shot upwards glances as well, lowering their eyes when they heard the gentle click of the door locking.

Hermione let out a sigh that seemed to come from deep inside her bones. Ron was looking away pointedly.

"I don't know what to do," she said, picking up her tea and cradling it in her cupped hands but not moving to take a drink. "She's been like this since we got home. She barely eats or talks, and she hardly ever leaves her room, which is really a mess right now. For her, anyway," she added in afterthought.

"She's a teenager," Ginny said quietly. "She's just being moody."

"No," Hermione said, shaking her head dejectedly. She set her teacup back down onto the table. "I think she's depressed about Scorpius Malfoy."

From out the corner of his eye, Harry saw Ron flinch.

"I just- I don't know what do about it." She let out a quiet sniff, wiping the corners of her eyes with a napkin.

Ron got up, muttering about going to the bathroom, but instead headed off to his study. The door closed with too much force to be just an accident, causing Hermione to throw down her napkin angrily. "Oh, that man!" she barked, voice breaking as the tears started to fall. Her face turned into blotchy shades of red. "He won't even admit that this is mostly his fault! He attacks the poor boy, gets himself kicked out of Hogwarts and refuses to go talk to his daughter or owl an apology! Like it's Scorpius' fault that he was born a Malfoy!"

Harry took in a heavy breath. He could face down Death Eaters, basilisks, dragons, death, dark wizards and break into goblin-protected banks, but a crying woman was still too dangerous for is tastes. "Uh, Gin, its getting late so maybe we should call in the kids and head home."

Ginny shot him a look that clearly said _I know why you want to leave and it's not going to work._ "There there," she said, leaning over the table to wrap a comforting arm around Hermione. "They'll come around."

As soon as Harry thought he could get away without getting jinxed, he got up from the table, leaving Ginny to deal with Hermione. He loved her like a sister, but Harry wasn't really all that good at comforting upset women. He had a bad habit of saying exactly the wrong thing (in a well-meaning way of course) and Ginny had a knack for handling these things anyway, even if she wasn't very weepy herself.

Sending his tea dishes to the sink, he left the kitchen and headed out the door, following the laughs and playful cries of the children fooling around down by the lake. Seeing their dad, Albus and James let down the chubby kid who was protesting loudly over being thrown in, and stepped back, murmuring apologies and whistling innocently.

The muggle children baulked when they saw Harry. He stopped. Sometimes he forgot that he looked less than congenial with his heavy scars and long, grey-streaked hair. To a muggle child, he was sure that he was a frightening sight.

He gave a chuckle, thankful that he had dressed in muggle jeans and shirt for the day, shed his shoes and went sprinting towards the pier.

"LAST ONE IN IS A CRUMPLE-HORNED SNORKACK!" he cried, taking a grand leap.

The splash drenched the chubby kid, who, in turn, broke into a grin and leapt in gracelessly.

--------------------------

Headmistress Dobrinski sat beside her desk, filling out forms to the ministry. The mess with the Mr. Weasley and the Malfoy boy was tremendous, one that she would be glad to be rid of as quickly as possible. After going through old Hogwarts records, she understood the circumstances, and why Ronald Weasley would feel so protective of his daughter. After all, the list of problems between the Weasleys, Potters, and Malfoys went as far back as the 1970's, if not before then. Poison, Death Eaters, murder attempts, dotty professors, duels, secret meetings, interrogation squads. One particularly disconcerting fight that landed Harry Potter, Fred and George Weasley on a temporarily permanent Quidditch ban, an even more disturbing record of Harry casting some unknown spell that left Draco Malfoy bleeding profusely in a bathroom, causing Harry to lose his captainship for the remainder of his sixth year. Not to mention random hexes, jinxes and curses and other minor misdemeanors.

But valid reasons or not, the headmistress could not afford having a grown man on the premises that would attack a student. Having to report the situation, it was all she could do to convince herself (and the ministry) that Mr. Weasley was indeed fit for service and not a danger to the other students. In a complicated correspondence, she barely squeaked him by the head of the auror to allow him to keep his job.

As for Rose and Hugo Weasley, the headmistress had convinced their mother than yes, they were still welcome to return to the school in the fall and remain until they ended education their primary educations. The only word from Draco Malfoy in regards to the events was that Scorpius would also be returning to Hogwarts. She had not been able to contact him further.

What alarmed Dobrinski though, was the fact that Draco had not, and wasn't planning, on taking any legal action against Ronald. In fact, he seemed more interested in keeping everything quiet, rather than show any concern for his son's well-being.

Dobrinski set down her quill, pinching the bridge of her nose. Gazing at the clock, it read almost midnight.

Jotting a quick note, she headed out of her office. True, she didn't need to make a special trip for this, but she had, after all, spent most of her evening writing letters at her desk and she needed the chance to stretch. In the morning, she'd talk with Professor Longbottom about keeping an eye on Scorpius when school started. Something about the whole situation made her uneasy. Besides, it was best to be over-cautious than not at all.

The door shut behind her, leaving the office in relative silence. On the walls, the portraits of former headmasters snoozed, having long since been bored to sleep by the scratching of the quill.

Well, all except for two portraits.

Snape waited for the footsteps to fade away before he dared opening his eyes.

"Do you think we ought to tell her, Albus?"

For a long moment, Snape feared that Dumbledore really had gone to sleep. The man may be a bit mad, but he wasn't as off his cracker as he lead others to believe.

"Not just yet, Severus," came the reply in a soft, wistful voice. "Not just yet."


	17. The Attack

Summer dragged on, slowly drifting into a lackadaisical haze. July melted into August with in a maddeningly slow pace, just as it always did at this point of the holidays. Homework was done (or at least stacked near the desk) and chores were finished (or at least considered and abandoned) and all the games were boring (would it really have killed James to let Albus win every once in a while? The git.)

Albus sat back on his bed, one leg propped over knee, hands cradling the back of his head. Perfectly content to lie there, he let his eyes drift shut, relishing the blanket of heat the weather provided.

What only seemed like a moment later, he felt something heavy landing on his stomach. "OOPH!" he gasped, the wind shooting right out of him. He blinked back the sleep in his eyes to see his mum with her wand still poised.

"Your O.W.L.S. were abysmal. Get cracking."

Albus picked up the book off his stomach. Transfiguration, year six. Charms, year six. Defense, sixth year. At least he got an 'E' on something. Potions for Dummies. Perfect. He rolled his eyes. "But mum, I-"

She crossed her arms, lifting her eyebrow.

"I don't have a quill. My last one broke."

Ginny kept her arms crossed but gave her wand a small flick.

From Albus' desk drawer, came a rattling noise like a small caged animal was trapped inside. The drawer jerked and pulled, allowing a bit of feather to pop through. From there, it wiggled, a great scuffling before it finally broke free.

A thin, reedy quill (which had been around since before Albus started Hogwarts) that looked the worst for wear, forgotten but still intact, shook itself free of dusk and a wad of Weasley Gigglety Gum before arching its spine and launching itself on its owner.

"OW!" Albus cried as it jabbed at him. He shielded himself with one arm, desperately trying to bat it away with the other. "Hey! Cut it out!"

The quill paused a second, then went for the feet. Albus gave it a swift kick, only to have it poke between his toes. Albus gave a howl of pain. He bent over to get at it, but it disappeared. "Come back here you little- BUGGER!" he yelped as the quill stabbed him in more sensitive places. "NOT MY ARSE YOU-"

It gave him another fierce jab, almost in the same exact spot. He twisted back to get it, falling off the mattress. It disappeared again.

Jerking his head this way and that, he gave the bed a frustrated smack with the palm of his hand, pounding the floor with the other. He was flushed, his hair tousled wildly, legs spread out before him. "Damn you! COME BACK HERE AND FIGHT LIKE A MAN!" he bellowed.

These seemed to be the magical words, unfortunately. Not only did the quill stop in mid-air, but the books lifted up and up, hovering like bats before Albus, taking formation behind the quill.

Albus' eyes widened. "Oh fuck me," he muttered.

But the words might as well had been "CHARGE!" for all the good it did. The quill swooped down, going (proverbially) for the jugular, or at least would have if Albus hadn't thought to cover himself with his hands. The rustling of books came down on him, whacking at his knees and arms (of course, only hard enough to stun him).

In a fit of panic, Albus ducked under his bed, forgetting that he had jammed all of his dirty clothes under the mattress and he was only a few days away from turning sixteen, he was therefore too big to squeeze his certain parts of his body under the bed.

To be precise, his rear.

It was only when he felt one particularly heavy volume going after that vulnerable spot that he realized his mistake. He kicked his feet, scrambling to turn over, then remembered why that was probably a bad idea as well. Given where he was though, the space was too cramped for him to rotate that way. He tried to pull back, but that was also particularly hard when the quill found its way through the rubbish ( foul-smelling socks, comics and the like that had free reign of the space under Albus' bed) and took a liking to nipping at his ears.

"MUM!" he cried from under the bed. "CALL THEM OFF!"

Casually, Ginny said ,"They're only able to stop when you are sitting down at your desk."

In his haste to get out from under the bed, he managed to push everything out from under it, including shoe boxes, random prank sweets and gags, socks and skivvies; not to mention thumping his head on the metal frame. Each loud swear earned him a wallop to his bum. He howled in anger and frustration. Blast it! He was stuck!

Noting her son's predicament, Ginny levitated the bed up, allowing Albus to dash out.

"HA!" he said, pumping his arms in the air in triumph. "TAKE THAT!"

His smile faded as his attackers regrouped and swarm in for the kill.

Albus dove for his chair, planting himself firmly on it, hoping that what his mother said would do the trick. He folded his hands in perfect primary school fashion, back stiffening when the quill and books came to an abrupt halt.

He bit his lip, waiting for the worst. Instead, the quill seemed to lose its enthusiasm, limply fluttering down on the desk next to Albus' left hand, the books followed suit and landed gently, almost without sound. The potions book, the last to come into view, propped itself against the wall in front of Albus, turning to his summer homework assignment. From the drawer, a small half-used inkpot placed itself on the desk, nice and ready for use.

Albus looked back at his mother, who was still standing as calmly as ever, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

"I expect you to study until supper." She turned to leave.

"Uh… mum?"

Ginny paused by the door

"I'm out of parchment," Albus said in a reserved voice. He held up his hands quickly. "I mean it!" he said before his mother could bewitch anything else. "I'm really out!"

The only sign of her amusement came from the twitch in the corner of her lips as Ginny flicked her wand again. This time, a faint rustling came from hallway, coming closer and closer.

Albus watched in fascination as a collection of paper came floating into his bedroom like a massive cloud, gently flying without a care in the wolrd, without the aggressiveness the quill's army had. Albus looked up as the papers came to a stop above his head.

He blinked, which seemed to be the cue. The whole lot fell down around him, not unlike the effect of dropping a sack of flour from a tower window (detention for a month, 2nd year. Filch had not been pleasant about that one.)

Albus sputtered, spitting a bit of scrap from his mouth as he parted the mountain of parchment around him.

"Remember. Study until dinnertime," he heard his mother say as the door closed behind her. From the vicinity of the hall, he heard Lily giggle.

Great. Bloody perfect.

He kicked aside the paper with a grunt. It was bad enough that he had to study, but he wasn't about to clean up the mess, if for no other reason, for principle's sake.

Well, maybe later.

Sighing, he brushed away the rest of the papers until he was faced with his potions book, a blank sheet of parchment and his quill and ink. Drawing the book towards him, he glanced at the first page of the chapter.

_N.E.W.T.S. potions theory tempers the subject of mere study-work and delves into applied tactic. Knowing the ingredients in any given potion does not give an understanding of the potion itself or the applications. Thortwat's rule of applied potions suggests that a mental catalogue of potions essentials is not merely enough, but to understand the condition and environment of growth, as well as the mental facilities under which the ingredient is produced. The more fitting the environment, the better the product. However, Kopakov's theory suggests that proper storage negates any minor results improper environment creates, and the debate still divides top potions scholars to this day._

Albus huffed as he shut the book. So onto transfiguration then.

A moment later, his sixth year transfiguration text was abandoned. As was his charms book. And then, finally, defense. After all, what good was a defense book without being able to practice? At least maybe to stun a frog or something.

He got up, only to sit back down again when his school books and quill started to squirm back to life. They settled back peacefully onto the desktop.

Forget stunning, maybe a proper partonus would be more fun to hack. Safer too, given the betrayal of his own school supplies. After all, he still wasn't able to get it quite right. A half-warped guinea pig… thing… probably wasn't going to do better for him than hiding under the bed.

_Happy thoughts, happy thoughts_ Albus repeated in his mind. _Right, and maybe that little muggle boy who doesn't want to grow up will take me to Nothing Nothing Country with Dinkerspell… No… that didn't sound right._

Bored out of his wits, Albus took up the quill and dipped it in the inkpot. Maybe a letter would do the trick, though he hadn't had the foggiest idea of who to send it to.

Chewing on a nail, he stared down at the parchment. Maybe his grandparents. No. They visited last week. He'd see them again for his sixteenth birthday, complete with a jumper, no less.

Professor Longbottom? No. He was coming for tea the day after next. It would seem stupid to send a letter now.

Of course, that left pretty much the students at Hogwarts.

He wondered if it would be safe now. After all, it was almost August. Maybe Scorpius' dad had cooled down enough to allow some letters. Apart from Zabini and Goyle, Scorpius didn't really have that many friends. Besides, he couldn't imagine Zabini or Goyle writing- well, anything. Albus long suspected that getting their names right most of the time had been more of a stroke of luck than anything else.

He pulled himself out of thought as the off taste of ink registered on his tongue. It served him right for thinking that Goyle and Zabini were too stupid to write letters, given that he had been nibbling half-absent mindedly on the tip of his quill.

_Nevermind, _he thought, dipping the quill back into the ink.

_Scor,_

_Summer has been fine here. All's normal in Potter-hell. James is still a big fat git. Hogs the Firebolt, as always. Lily-pad won't shut up about her stupid magazine. That's my new name for 'lil sis. She hates it. That's why I like it. _

_Rosie's not herself. Write her. While you're at it, write me too. She's dropped weight. It's depressing. She won't even help me sneak Puking Pastilles in Hugo's drinks anymore. We're going to Diagon Alley in two weeks to get more stuff for school, so maybe that'll cheer her up. _

_What happened after the train? Your dad looked pissed. He didn't beat you, did he? You can tell me. I promise I won't say a thing to anybody if you don't want me to. Not even Dad, 'cause he's been bugging me about it. I keep telling him that I don't know, but I don't think he believes me. _

_Hope you're doing ok. Say 'hi' to Mipsy for me. _

_-Al_

Albus read over the letter. Satisfied, he tucked it in an envelope before sealing it. He wrote Scorpius' name across it, then set it aside. Glancing over at the clock, there was still an hour before supper, and homework (given the pile that still cluttered up half of his bedroom) still wasn't much of an option.

Grabbing a fresh piece of parchment, he nibbled on the tip of his quill. They had agreed that they would have plenty of time when they came back for their 6th year, but Albus always was the impatient sort. Certainly one little letter, a simple "hello, love!" couldn't be that big of a problem.

His heart seized on the word 'love', even if it had been meant only figuratively. Definitely not there yet, but maybe they were. Given their last night together, it felt like that. Very much like love. Or something like it.

Albus didn't like to think any farther than he should. That's what Hagrid always told him "Don' count yer flobberworms 'fore they 'atch." Or something like that.

Enough with the 'something like that' stuff. Maybe it was something like that and it could be beautiful and happy and really really cool.

He wasn't ready though. At some point, he knew he had to tell. It's just that he couldn't be ready for it if he couldn't say "Hey! Guess what!" to anyone. Two years, and it scared him.

Dipping the quill into the ink again, he took a deep, soul-cleansing breath. One little letter couldn't hurt.

-----------------------

"Scorpius…"

His eyes rolled back in his head. Scorpius felt a chill sweep over his body, strong and welcome.

"Yes," he replied, arching his back against the chill, twisting on the ground.

The hiss laughed, enveloping him in the dark. A few more moments, and the sensation was gone, lifting away from his body. A thought needled in the back of his mind, but he pushed it away. This sensation, whatever it was, was intoxicating, much more so than he would have thought possible.

Bit by bit, he felt something drain out of him, though he couldn't put his finger on it, it felt needed, important. But the buzzing in his brain was insistent. He had to have this… this… connection.

Suddenly, the chill that had been racing so pleasantly up his spine vanished, leaving him gasping on the ground, tugging at the carpets.

"Please. Please, Viedemal!" he heard himself whimper.

She came into his view, leaning over his gasping body. He reached for her, trying to fulfill needs he never thought he's need, yearn for. Beg for.

A smile crept across her face as she reached a hand out to him. One sharp nail lifted his chin towards her, digging too hard to be comfortable, certainly leaving a mark. At this point, Scorpius didn't care.

"Who do you belong to?" she hissed.

"You," Scorpius replied.

"Yes." The word seemed to curl around her tongue as if she savored the flavor. "And what is your purpose?"

"You," Scorpius said again.

The nails dug into his skin. "What is your duty?"

"You," he repeated.

Though it was obviously not the answer to the question, Viedemal seemed pleased, almost victorious. Something low and guttural came emitted from her lips; a throaty growl.

"Good," she purred. One fingernail traced his lip.

The now familiar sensation swooped over him again, causing him to arch off the ground under something other than his own power.

"Yes!" he cried, being grateful to have the connection again. However, it was short-lived. His spine straightened, relaxed. Scorpius gasped for air, looking through the haze that surrounded them. Sparks prickled under his skin as the mist grew denser.

This time though, Viedemal drew back her head and drank from the mist as it washed over her. It drew into her, absorbing into her skin seductively.

"Yes…" she purred, her skin began to glow as the mist faded away.

Once the last it of mist disappeared, she eyed Scorpius in hunger, as if one taste had not been enough. But to devour him now would be utter foolishness.

"Good…" she breathed, red tint in her eyes flaring and fading. "Now…" she said, leaning against the edge of the bed with a blissful expression. "Out."

Scorpius slowly got to his feet, far from satisfied, left the room.


	18. Draco

Draco sat in the study, drafting a letter to the ministry. As far as anyone was concerned, Draco and Scorpius had gone on holiday. Certainly not to Albania, of course. His family's Death Eater reputation still lingered over them and he couldn't afford to be seen here any more than strictly necessary. From the window, Eule swept in with the forwarded mail, dropping the stack on Draco's desk.

Correspondences were routed and rerouted through the Malfoy Manor, thanks to Kreul. The house-elf pre-tested every letter for jinxes, traces, hexes and other tamperings before sending it on. Unfortunately, Kreul was neglecting to inspect the contents.

Draco looked through the small stack of paper. Letters from clients and his partners, demanding to meet with him for yet another business deal. Departmental letters from the ministry requesting product inspections. Contracts and bills to sign. All quite dull.

His lips drew into a scowl as he got to the last letter, blotted and worn parchment with Scorpius' name written across the top in a messy, juvenile scrawl. Without a second thought, Draco peeled away the seal and unfolded the letter.

Draco's scowl deepened as he read. The Potter boy. The one in Scorpius' year that shared his dorm. Scorpius certainly had complained about him often enough the first two years at Hogwarts, though his son quickly got tired of ranting right around 3rd year. Apparently, they must have become friends at some point.

After some childish blither about siblings and Rose Weasley, his grip tightened on the parchment.

_  
'What happened after the train? Your dad looked pissed. He didn't beat you, did he? You can tell me. I promise I won't say a thing to anybody if you don't want me to. Not even Dad, 'cause he's been bugging me about it. I keep telling him that I don't know, but I don't think he believes me.'_

Normally, Draco simply resealed the letters and sent them back, as he did with the romantic drivel that the Weasley girl had sent. It was best for her to believe that Scorpius had forgotten her. That would make her much easier to handle later. Teenage romance was fickle, even at the best of times. If she stayed true to female form, she would get jealous and upset and break it off as soon as she laid eyes on his son. After a month of returning the long, girlishly angst-filled letters, they stopped entirely. Of course, Draco never showed these to his son.

Draco ripped Albus' letter in half. He knew perfectly well what Scorpius would tell the Potter boy if he was allowed to reply. Blasted Gryffindor blood. Even if the little prat was in Slytherin, he'd go all noble and run to his father faster than you could say 'Quidditch'. He tore the letter again quarters, then eighths. And knowing Harry, he'd come and ruin everything, just like he did with everything else Draco ever attempted. Harry the much-beloved Auror coming to save Scorpius, the woe-be-gotten son of a prominent magical artifacts dealer, regardless of what such a rescue would cost them.

From the back bedroom, a howl cut through the silence. It took all of Draco's will power not to go back there and stop Viedemal from whatever she was doing to his son. But if he were to stop her now, more damage would be done.

Another howl, anguished and frightening came from the room, almost drowning out the cackling laughter of Viedemal. Draco steeled his will, pain throbbing through his temples. He let out a shudder and thought of his wife; collapsing to the ground as she had demanded that this had to be stopped at once. The spell emanating the world in a bright flash of green. The dull thud as her body fell to the floor.

'_Do you dare oppose me too?' _

No. He didn't. He knew what was at stake, in ways that no one else did.

The next cry, this time one of aggressive passion and longing, pierced the air so quickly that scraps of letter that Draco was holding scorched and dissolved into a pile of cinders.

For a brief moment, the air was calm, prickling the hair on the back of Draco's neck. They had been at it for hours, and Viedemal in her growing strength, could only handle so many doses before she would yield to the temptation and take too much, too quickly. Draco was desperate to stop it, but the vow he made rendered him useless. Even if he had the power to stop this madness, the consequences were too high to ignore.

Suddenly, the house went quiet.

'_When she is done feeding, you will be left in peace.'_

'_Is that a promise?'_

'_No.'_

A moment later, Scorpius appeared, dazed. His mouth hung open stupidly as he staggered from Viedemal's chambers.

Draco, never quite used to seeing his normally rigid son look on the brink of collapse, conjured an over-stuffed chair. Feeling his knees nudged behind him, Scorpius crumpled into the cushions, Viedemal's effects slowly draining from his system. His look of blissful hunger slowly drifted from his eyes, making him tired, much more so than Draco had ever seen him outside of Albania.

This ritual was a nasty business, and it pained Draco to see it. But he kept his face blank and his breath steady. It would not do to lose his temper now and ruin the plans that had been in the making for over twenty years.

He went back to his letters, clearing away the ashes from Albus Potter's parchment. He kept one ear open to his son, who had quickly fallen asleep to regenerate himself for Viedemal's next dose. Even on the days where she did not require him, Draco saw a marked difference in his son's manner. His energy became harder and harder to come by. His teenage brooding over the Weasley girl had almost evaporated, leaving behind a steadily growing obsession over Viedemal. Scorpius' eyes, once a dark dove grey, began to lighten.

At this rate, Draco didn't know how long his son could last. Maybe not even until his 17th birthday. That was another reason why he had wanted to wait for Scorpius to come age. Seventeen brought on the peak of power, the best chance Scorpius would have had to survive this ordeal with his magic mostly intact. But now, not even sixteen year, and he was beginning to fade.

Scorpius slept on and Draco could not concentrate on his correspondence. Snippets raced past his mind, years of bad decisions and loyalties lost swam behind his eyes like seagulls engulfed in a storm. One by one they were eaten up by the waves, horrible squawks drowned out by the all-encompassing black waters.

A faint moan broke Draco from his reverie. He turned to Scorpius who had curled up into the chair, his young face tight with worry.

"Rosie- No!" he moaned, turning his face into the back of the chair.

Draco sighed, getting up from the writing desk. Producing a small vial that he now always kept in his robes, he uncorked it. He approached his son, placing a firm hand on his jaw that almost twitched away from the sudden contact, but otherwise stayed still. Giving the hinges a slight squeeze, Draco managed to open his son's mouth, emptying the contents of the vial into it.

The change was immediate. Scorpius' breathing slowed and his face calmed. Though he didn't lapse into a pleasant smile, the nightmare seemed to be chased off.

Draco, far from satisfied with the result, took up the desk chair and watched his son sleep.


	19. Kings Cross

Harry drove his family to King's Cross, hands gripping the wheel more than strictly necessary. Lily blathered on in the back seat, unfazed by the tense silence they rode in. James tried to look like he was keeping attention, Albus sunk lower in his seat in the front passenger side. Ginny was at a meeting for the Daily Prophet, though she had wanted to come.

Harry's irritation at his youngest son had grown steadily over the summer. He had understood at the end of last term why Albus had been avoiding him and didn't really take much offense to it. But he had talked with Hermione, saying that Rose had become worse than ever. She barely ate, neglected her homework to the point where Hermione had to physically sit her down and work her through it just like she had done for them in their school days. Her room had a steadily growing pile of crumpled letters to Scorpius which Hermione snuck out from time to time, disturbing cries and pleas for news that never came. And there would be moments were she would clutch an unfamiliar locket around her neck, totally cut off from the world for a few brief moments. When she came back, she would be pale, despondent. Hugo reported that Rose even muttered in her sleep, sometimes yelling or screaming. She would wake in a daze, drenched with sweat, begging to see Scorpius when she looked around the room in a fever, only to find him as absent as ever.

When Hermione told him this, his hand went to his scar. Old memories cropped up in him, more out of reflex than magic. Suddenly he remembered why Rose's behavior sounded so familiar.

Harry sent a letter to Malfoy Manor, only to have it returned. After that, he wrote to the ministry, visited Draco's shops, contacted as many people that he knew still kept in contact with Draco, but all news came up empty. The only word Harry could get was that Draco and Scorpius were on holiday at an undisclosed location. Since there was apparently no illegal actions that Harry could work out beyond theory, he couldn't very well employ the Auror's Locator department to try to find them. Without probable cause, he couldn't just tromp off and try to find Scorpius.

What frustrated Harry about all this was the fact that he had Scorpius' friend in his own house, who obviously knew what was going on but refused to say. Maybe he should have punished Albus within an inch of his life like he had been expected to in the beginning of summer. If Scorpius was being dragged off and abused somewhere, now would be the time to talk, especially since Harry kept asking him, even lecturing him. All Albus had to say was "I think Scorpius' father hurts him" and Harry could step it.

Albus, however, would not budge.

Harry thought, not for the first time, of using Legilimency on his son, but thought better of it. For one, he was not skilled enough to go after specific memories, and he remembered his own painful experiences from his 5th year. No matter what his worry or irritation, no one deserved to have their mind probed like that against their will. Albus was lucky that years of work and discipline separated Harry from his urges, however tempting those urges might be.

Harry flexed his drip on the wheel. Very lucky indeed.

-------------------

The train loaded with its usual amount of chaos. Crying and nervous 1st years wailed not to go, others jumping up and down in excitement. Cats and toads crept around underfoot, trolleys loaded with trunks and cages clattered about, a fair few toppling over in many students' bustling onto Platform 9 ¾. All in all, general pandemonium.

Harry helped his children load up their trolleys. They made it onto the platform with ease, as usual, and James, now entering his 7th year, had wandered away to show off to a group of 6th year girls. Lily went off as well to find Esmeralda and show off the interview that she managed to weasel out of her father. Amongst the crowd, Albus found the shocking red hair of Ron, Rose and Hugo, leaving Harry to the trolleys.

At first, Harry thought he ought to be a tad put off. After all, this was the last time they'd see each other before Christmas, and he wasn't their bloody house-elf, just their father. Flesh and blood and giver of chocolate frogs, no less. But that thought zoomed out of his head as he eyed a pair of blond-white heads off on the other end of the platform. Casting a security charm over his children's belongings, Harry tucked his wand out of sight, but within easy access, and crossed the station.

The Malfoys stood with their sides turned away from him, so he couldn't make out their faces from such an awkward angle. Casting a Disillusionment charm on himself, he snuck in for a closer look. Draco kept his cane stiff as always, but rather than cupping the top with both hands as usual, one hand was clenched over Scorpius' shoulder. The boy seemed to rock under the weight, eyes blinking slowly, as if exhausted. His face barely looked sixteen, or recognizable, for that matter. Bags were set deep and heavy under Scorpius' eyes, his face gaunt and pale.

Not that Draco looked any better. Although his hair was in immaculate condition, it also bore the unmistakable look of too little sleep and not enough sun. Harry clenched his fist around his wand. Wherever they had been this summer, it had not been on a holiday.

Harry choked down his rising temper. Probable cause or not, he should have listened to his instinct. He thought of Lucius Malfoy's hearings after the war, those acquainted with the Malfoy family bearing witness to Lucius' character by describing Draco's upbringing. The cane, now present in Draco's thin hand, had played a nasty role. For a family so insistent on adhering to wizarding traditions, Draco's punishments had been surprisingly muggle in nature.

All those years of hearing Draco's bragging throughout their Hogwarts years, Harry had been almost jealous. He hardly thought of spending summers at the Malfoy Manors as enjoyable, but it had to have been better than hanging around the Dursley's. Being coddled and spoiled seemed like a much more pleasant summer than being locked in a room, only being allowed out for chores. After the war however, Harry realized how badly he had been mistaken.

Uncasting the Disillusionment charm, Harry strolled up to them, plastering an nonchalant smile over his face. That did not keep him from keeping a hand over the handle of his wand.

"Malfoy," he said as he approached. There was a moment of mild surprise from Draco, who cast a glance over his shoulder.

"Potter. Imagine meeting you here."

"Yes. Imagine that."

Both men glared at each other for a moment. Scorpius seemed unaware of the sudden interaction.

"Is there a reason for this unexpected chat?" Draco said after a moment of silence.

"Yes, in fact, there is. I was simply wondering how your summer went."

Draco raised one slim eyebrow. "As usual, your lack of subtly is appalling."

Harry's eyes darkened. "Not bad, compared to you. I thought you'd be more careful. No one from the ministry seeing you for months on end. No correspondence with Dobrinski after the incident last term. Tromping off somewhere, leaving your stores to your incompetent partners. Not to mention some shabby-looking house-elf by the name of Kreul obtaining a few illegal potions ingredients for an undisclosed manor in Wiltshire. That's near where you live, isn't it, Malfoy?"

"I don't know what you are talking about, Potter." Draco gave an indignant sniff. "In case you hadn't heard, my son and I were on a holiday. Even you, Potter, can understand the need for privacy, or has being a famous Auror completely muddled your thinking?" He gave a sneer. "One too many shocks to the scar, Potter?"

Harry ignored his taunting. "What's happened to your son, then? Care to explain that?"

Draco's sneer deepened. "I fail to see how that is any business of yours."

"As a military official for the ministry of magic, I make it my job to know."

For a moment, both men stared at each other. Harry thought that Draco would attack, or at least deliver another scathing comment. But instead, he smirked.

"Scorpius," Draco said, giving his son a small jostle. "Tell Mr. Potter how your summer went."

Scorpius, who had seemed to not have paid any attention at all, jerked as if he had been at the point of dozing off. His eyes focused and unfocused, taking in Harry's appearance in an almost confused way.

"M'fine," he muttered, lowering his head again.

"See?" Draco said with a twitch of his lips. "My son is fine. He has said so himself. The foolish boy simply over-exerted himself over the summer. Now if you'll excuse us-"

Draco made to move forward, but Harry drew his wand, pointing it directly at Draco's chest. Draco stopped, releasing his cane, allowing it to clatter to the ground. His own wand came out in a flash. The crowd around them paused, slowly taking notice.

"Don't give me that load of bollocks," Harry said through gritted teeth. "The boy is sick. Any troll could figure out that much."

"Then it doesn't surprise me in the least that you would have noticed it."

Before he could reply, Hermione broke through the crowd, grabbing onto his arm. "HARRY! What do you think you're doing?"

Harry ignored her. "Tell me what happened to Scorpius! Don't think I have forgotten what came out about your father after the war."

"It is not, nor was it ever, any of your concern, Potter! And you are a fool to think that I would employ my father's methods when dealing with my own son! "

"The apple doesn't fall far from the tree, Malfoy!"

"RON!" Hermione cried. "DO SOMETHING!"

It didn't take long for Ron to come though, seeing that he had already started sprinting over at the sound of raised voices. He stood beside Harry with his wand raised, ready to fight.

Something inside of Draco's look clicked and melted away. Despite being riled up, he knew better than to take on two Aurors; especially ones as influential as Harry Potter and Ron Weasley. He tucked his wand away, fully aware that magical law prevented Harry and Ron from officially attacking if Draco failed to present himself as a threat.

"Gentlemen," Draco said, stiffening his posture. Harry's grip on his wand tightened. "Let us not forget ourselves." Draco snapped his fingers. A small house-elf, its back twisted and gnarled, scurried forward. It picked up Draco's cane with relish, handing it lovingly to his master. "Thank you, _Kreul_," Draco said pointedly, looking Harry dead in the eye. With a hint of a satisfied smirk, he took the cane and pushed it between Harry and Ron, separating the gap between them enough to allow himself through with Scorpius. "Now if you'll excuse us, my son has a train to catch."

"You tell your son to stay away from my daughter, Malfoy," Ron spat, anger flaring up in his eyes.

Draco's sneer returned. "And I take it that you're not too thick to tell your daughter to stay away from my son?"

Ron didn't answer, but let himself be pushed aside further with the cane. With that, Draco strolled his son away from them, the house-elf in question trailing behind them. Kreul turned, blew a raspberry at Harry, Hermione and Ron and limped behind his master.

"I'M WATCHING YOU, MALFOY!" Harry bellowed. The threat went unheeded. They watched as Draco lead his son onto the train.

As soon as they disappeared out of sight, Harry turned and stalked off back to his children's trolleys, Hermione hot on his heels.

"What do you think you were doing, Harry?" Hermione scolded. "What Draco does with his son is his business!"

"Really? You think so?" Harry shot back. "You saw what Scorpius looked like! Something is going on and it's definitely not 'over-exertion'."

"But you have no proof, Harry!" Hermione said. "You know the law! Unless there are markings, Draco or Scorpius says something or if there's a witness, there is no evidence! Think about it, Harry! Maybe Scorpius did over-exert himself, or has a bad summer cold! You don't know!"

Harry stopped for a moment, panting. "Hermione," he said, lowering his voice. "I looked into his eyes. There's something wrong. Something is seriously wrong with that boy." He shook his head. "You can't seriously tell me that you didn't see it too?"

"Look, Harry," Hermione said, matching his low tone. "All I know is that this is Scorpius' 6th year, and after that, he can do whatever he pleases. He'll be of age then. If he stays at Hogwarts over the Christmas holidays, he won't have to deal with his father again until next summer. He can cut himself off after that if he wants."

"Yea," Ron said. Harry gave surprised jerk. He had forgotten that Ron was there. "Besides, why do you care about some Malfoy prat? He's trying to have it off with your niece after all. Don't know why you'd feel any sympathy toward him," he said with a grimace.

"Yes, Harry," Hermione said. "Why do you care? What's so important about helping Scorpius Malfoy?" Bitterness began to edge in her voice. "In case you haven't noticed, you have three children of your own to worry about, not to mention that my own daughter, your niece, is starting to look as haggard as Scorpius and you aren't that concerned about her!"

Harry shook his head. "But I trust you, though," he said. Unconsciously he rubbed at his scar. "She's depressed, not being beaten. Look, I've got to go help get the kids on the train," he said, leaving Ron and Hermione to deal with Rose and Hugo without another word.

Harry crossed the station in an absolute temper. He had a bad feeling about the whole situation. He didn't believe for a moment that Rose was just depressed; there was something deeper happening here. But Hermione was right. He had no proof, just guesses. There was something oddly familiar about this whole situation, and it unsettled him in ways that he had almost forgotten about.

"Dad, what's going on?" James said, worry written across his young face. Lily, too, seemed upset. Harry ignored them, however, heading towards Albus who seemed to be trying to disappear behind his trolley.

"Albus Severus, if I may have a word," Harry said, grabbing his youngest son's sleeve and taking him behind a platform divider. "Stop twitching," he commanded, watching as his son's eyes turned as wide as saucers. "I have a job for you."

"A- a job?" Albus said, shock written across his face.

"Yes," Harry said, looking right into his son's eyes. "I want you to look out for Rose and Scorpius for me. They are both very sick and I want you to report to me each week how they are doing. If anything drastic happens, I want you to contact me _immediately._ Do you understand?" Albus gave him short nod. "Good. This is very important that you do this." He gave Albus' shoulder a squeeze. "I want you to promise me that you'll do this. Do you promise?"

Albus scanned his father's face, judging whether or not he was serious.

"Your word, Al." Harry gave his shoulder a tighter squeeze. Albus' gaze dropped, studying his trainers. Harry took a deep breath, trying to calm his voice. "Please, Al. This is important."

Albus gave a quick nod. "Ok, sure. I'll do it."

Harry breathed out a sigh of relief. "Thank you," he said. He straightened himself out, not realizing how stiffly he had been holding himself until he relaxed. "I wouldn't ask if this wasn't important."

Albus gave him another nod. Together they walked out from behind the platform post. Harry studiously ignored Hermione's reproachful glare.


	20. Return to Hogwarts

Rosie shivered in anticipation. Two months had come and gone; two horrible sleepless months with no word from the Malfoy Manor. Her father and grandmother both tried to entice her with every sort of her favorite foods; sweets to suppers. Her grandfather tried to keep her busy at the ministry, investigating the makings and usage of something called a 'personal computer' and 'the internet'. "And what happens when the computer becomes 'impersonal'?" Grandpa Weasley mused.

Hermione had even scheduled a trip to muggle London, Paris and Rome, trying to woo her daughter back from her withering state with the Eiffel Tower, Buckingham Palace, little cafés and summer festivals. They cut the trip short when Rosie caught sight of the young lovers in Vienna, throwing her into an even deeper depression.

Albus' birthday party was a blur. It barely registered that Uncle George gave him enough Skiving Snackboxes, Extendable Ears and enchanted quills to keep him until next summer term. Or that Lily spent a good deal of time reading their horoscopes for each family member in turn from the Quibbler. Or that Teddy was wearing a horrific bright orange and green bowler hat that somehow made it to every family gathering without fail. Or that Hugo was chasing down Jailbird, her grandmother's fat but agile tabby, who had happened to steal a miniature enchanted broom that her uncle had given him the previous Christmas.

No. Rosie simply sat there, poking at her piece of cake with no particular interest in eating it.

Though she hadn't been showing it, Rosie had been waiting for the first day of term and had been so nervous about seeing Scorpius again that it took her no less than three tries to pack her trunk. She packed her unsent letters on top, planning on rereading and editing them down for Scorpius.

Preening in front of the mirror, her stomach clenched. What if Scorpius had forgotten about her? What if he really went to Albania? What if her father had really scared him away? Maybe he wouldn't even be coming back to Hogwarts at all.

No. She refused to think about that. He was simply waiting for her. Maybe he didn't want to cause any trouble and kept his distance for her. At this point, she wouldn't have minded a bit of trouble, if only to calm her nerves.

Trying not to make her efforts obvious, she scanned the crowd at the station, anxiously looking for Scorpius. She only succeeded when she spotted her uncle, stomping off before becoming invisible, upending an over-packed trolley and upsetting a plethora of owls before reaching the a pair of shocking blond heads at the far end.

She didn't dare to follow, watching Albus tense as he spotted his father approaching Draco Malfoy. It wasn't long before they could hear the sounds of shouting, watching her mother and father running off to her uncle's aid.

Albus gripped Rosie's shoulder before she could totter over, feeling lightheaded and dizzy. From the distance, she could see Scorpius, but couldn't make out his expression, but he looked pale, underfed.

Albus' hand disappeared, and he along with it. For all she knew, he had gone onto the train, or went to find Lily and James, but she didn't care, bracing herself on her own trolley. Her mother was gesturing at her uncle, shoulders set angrily. Her face started to take on a red twinge, an obvious sign that her mother was desperately trying not to go into a temper.

Rosie abandoned watching her mother in lieu of Scorpius, who was practically stumbling his way onto the train, despite his father's help.

She had boarded the train, feeling slightly better that she would be able to talk with Scorpius at last, batting away her parents when they tried to examine her again before leaving until the winter holidays.

"I'm fine," she protested, worming her way out of her mother's hands. "I'll eat off the trolley at lunch. Don't worry," she insisted weakly.

Her mother still disapproved, but finally relented as the conductor made his last boarding calls.

"C'mon, 'Mione," her father said, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Let her breathe."

Rosie let her father lead her onto the train, handing her trunk off to Hugo. He pulled her into a hug. "Eat something, ok? If you want to eat nothing but pudding tonight, I promise I won't tell your mum. And remember to only collect the chocolate cards with yours truly on 'em. They'll be worth lots galleons one day," he said, a small laugh in his voice that didn't seem quite convincing.

That's how she left them, her mother going back to argue with her uncle, her father waving goodbye to her from the platform.

Once the Hogwarts express left King's Cross, Rosie made her way through the gangly elbows and curious leers, heading down to the Slytherin compartments looking for Scorpius, only to find that he was surrounded by his goons who absolutely refused to let anyone pass, especially Rosie. She caught a glimpse of Scorpius through the compartment window, dull grey eyes unaware of either Goyle or Zabini. She was close to tears as Goyle pushed her away and was completely in shock when a hand reached out from a few doors down and pulled her inside.

She panicked for a moment, only calming down when she could take in the familiar raven's nest of hair, bottle-green eyes searching her face.

"It's only me, Rosie," Albus said.

She let out a tired sob, feeling Albus' arms tighten around her. When she was able to let go, he set a locking charm on the door, pulled down the shades and let her rest.

They didn't talked for the rest of the trip.

---------------------

_Dad,_

_Rosie misses Scor, but he's with Goyle and Zabini and they won't let anybody talk to him. He looks bad. He didn't eat much at the feast, but Rosie had some pudding. Tried talking to him tonight, but he won't say anything. I don't think he can. He's pretty out of it._

_-Al_

_PS. Can mum tell me how to use that Bat-Bogey hex? For research._

---------------------

Scorpius awoke with a start on his bed, not entirely sure how he got there. The world had been spinning so fast that he didn't notice until he was staring at the familiar green curtains of his four-poster. He hadn't been there for what must have been months. But it only seemed like yesterday that he had lain here, waiting anxiously for next morning when they would leave Hogwarts and return home.

Something had happened, something out of the ordinary. But what?

Scorpius patted down his body. He had the vague recollection that someone had attacked him. Pulling up his shirt, Scorpius groped at his ribcage. He remembered that there had been a bruise, but when he felt the region, it was fine.

Scorpius propped himself up on his elbows, a twinge of pain hitting him right in the center of his back. It felt like he had been kicked there, his body slowly dissolving into a deep ache. A groan escaped his lips.

Without warning, a distinctly bright light illuminated around the closed curtains of his bed. He froze in place, panic starting to edge in on him. How did he get there? Who had put him to bed? Had summer even happened yet? Maybe it was still June.

"Who's there?" he whispered, his voice going a little higher than he intended it to. Scorpius felt for his wand but it was nowhere in sight. "Who's there?" he said again, pushing a bit of bravado into it.

It was too late, the curtain began to pull back.

"Whoa! Put the cauldron on simmer, mate!" Albus said as Scorpius jumped. His wand lit up the room.

Scorpius narrowed his eyes and tucked his feet up as Albus climbed onto the foot of the bed, drawing the curtains closed. "What are you doing?"

"Shh. The others are sleeping."

"Since it's the middle of the night, I would think so," Scorpius hissed. "What's going on?"

"What, can't I climb in for a midnight conversation with my favorite blond dorm-mate?" Albus asked innocently.

"I'm your _only_ blond dorm-mate," Scorpius said, sinking back onto the pillows. "But why now?"

Albus bit his lower lip, one of the obviously clues that he was about to lie or was fudging on the truth. He shrugged in a nonchalant gesture. "No reason. Just checking on you."

Scorpius quirked an eyebrow, but the shock of waking up was waning, his eyes starting to drift shut on their own. "Whatever," he sighed, giving Albus a prod with his toe. "What time is it?"

"Three in the morning; Tuesday, September third," he said, almost as an afterthought.

"Ha ha. Very funny," Scorpius snorted. "School starts on the second."

Albus gave him an odd look.

"What?" Scorpius said.

"You don't remember?"

"Remember what?" His eyes grew wide.

From outside of Scorpius' curtains, there came a rustling noise. Both boys paused, the illumination of Albus' wand going out with a barely audible "Nox."

"Scuttles-" someone muttered, directly followed with a punctuated with Hewitt's distinctive nasal snore.

"Lumos," Albus muttered. They were bathed again in the soft yellow light of Albus' wand.

They waited until Hewitt's breathing deepened before they continued.

"What's going on Al?" Scorpius said, kneeling forward. "I didn't miss the first day, did I?"

"Technically, no. You were in every class. But-"

"But what?"

"You didn't seem to be… there."

Scorpius cocked his head to the side. "What do you mean 'I wasn't there.' You just said I went to all my classes."

Albus shook his head. "I didn't mean it like that. You were there, physically, but I don't know… You were- you seemed removed. Like you were asleep." Albus leaned in, laying his wand down on the bed. "Don't you remember anything? The classes? The feast? The train? The summer?" Scorpius shook his head at each question. "Rosie?"

Scorpius' eyes widened, but he shook his head.

"Merlin," Albus muttered. "What happened to you?"

"I-I don't know… Why?" Scorpius said. "Al, what's going on?"

Albus sighed, casting a silencing spell over Scorpius' four-poster. "We need to talk."


	21. Reunions

Neville Longbottom sat at the head table, sandwiched between Hagrid and the muggle studies professor, McQuilch.

Stabbing his fork into his serving of roast, he tried to keep his attention on McQuilch's talk about advancements in muggle technology, but it just didn't seem possible. Despite his neutral demeanor, Neville was pureblood, born and raised within the wizarding community so completely that he hadn't properly met a muggle until he was in his twenties. He wasn't prejudiced, just uninterested and a little confused, not even attempting to understand the strange slang and oddly clunky inventions that non-magical folk came up with. Muggledom seemed, well, a little boring.

Neville let his mind wander around the room. The 1st years seemed less and less lost by the day, although it was always surprising just how small they all were. Every returning student went through the ever-steady ritual of outgrowing their robes, shooting up like stalks of grain seemingly overnight. Students he taught over the years seemed to disappear as they graduated; it was hard to keep up with who was in what year, and Neville sometimes had a hard time remembering such trivial matters until a student was just _gone._

The Slytherin table was as loud as ever. Two long months of no magic tended to make students restless. Each teenager showed this in different ways, but the Slytherin House was always keen on practicing long dormant hexes and jinxes. Someone would trip, a sausage would end up in a Hufflepuff's nose, a Ravenclaw's hair would turn suspiciously purple, a Gryffindor's feet would start tap-dancing uncontrollably. All this was fairly harmless, even though it fell drastically short of being good-natured.

Predictably, Albus was letting lose his yearly renewed supply of Wizard Wheezes, sneaking Puking Pastilles into someone's pudding, sending Snowlers (a prank version of a Howler that would go after the victim with rude limericks and gaseous noises), and causing general mayhem that, of course, could never properly be blamed on him.

He turned back to his bit of cake, only catching the tail end of McQuilch's lecture. The man was an absolute bore; his droning only second to Professor Binns in tedium. Neville was too polite for his own good, nodding in agreement over the slipping quality of muggle television programs. Whatever those were. From the description though, it seemed that 'reality shows' were anything but realistic. Not that he could understand the appeal of watching other people humiliate themselves for money.

The dinner crowd began to thin out, last mouthfuls of cake and pumpkin juice left uneaten, a jaw-cracking yawn or two emitted from some of the 1st years, a sure sign that the novelties of starting at Hogwarts were beginning to wane.

Neville noticed a flash of blond hair bobbing at the end of the hall. Taking one last drink of wine, he excused himself from McQuilch's tirade. He made his way down the steps of the raised platform, robes flapping at his ankles.

"Malfoy! Scorpius! Wait!"

But Scorpius didn't seem to hear Professor Longbottom calling out for him. Neville quickened his pace, only hesitating a moment to let a pair of 3rd year Hufflepuffs pass.

"Oi! Scorpius!" he said again, only to be rewarded with the grim figures of Goyle and Zabini.

"What do you want?" Zabini said, eyes squinting.

"No business of yours," Neville said. He veered to the left, only to be blocked by Goyle. "Twenty points from Slytherin, boys," Neville said, side-stepping both of them. "You should know better by now."

By this time, Scorpius had left the Great Hall, going down the corridor. Neville ran to keep up, dodging another patch of younger students who simply shrugged and kept on their way.

He didn't catch up with Scorpius until he recognized that the path would eventually lead to the Owlery, but he didn't concern himself with pathways at that moment. Closing the gap, he gave Scorpius' shoulder a tug that was quite unusual to be shared between a teacher a student but he finally got the boy's attention.

Neville felt slightly out of breath. He was hardly out of shape, but he wasn't young anymore and Scorpius had kept a brisk stride.

"You are, by far, the hardest student to get a hold of," Neville said between pants, remembering the numerous notes he had sent over the past week. "We need to talk." Scorpius' eyes narrowed. "You're not taking Herbology. Why?"

"Why do you care?"

"You got an O on your Herbology O.W.L.S. You love the subject." Neville straightened. "Rosie tells me that you wanted to work under me as an apprentice."

Scorpius' gaze shot down towards his feet. "I wasn't aware you were so close to her," he mumbled. His voice sounded slightly affronted, but naïve in trying to make it sound convincing.

Neville shot him a curious look. "Her family and I have been friends since before you were born. You know that already but that's not the point." His look softened. "Scorpius, I'll gladly take you into my N.E.W.T.S class. It's not too late. Really, it's not." He placed a hand on Scorpius' shoulder. "What happened? When you went home?"

Scorpius jerked away as if he were being burned but Neville's hand stayed in place. The space between his eyebrows creased. "Look, if you're talking about that thing that happened before school ended-"

Neville nodded. There was no point in pretending.

If Scorpius was surprised about his professor's frank look, he didn't show it. He took back his shoulder. "That's between me and my father," he said. He stiffened himself, taking back the pose that he had learned long ago when dealing with his father. Don't show weakness. Don't show fear. Don't show remorse.

He turned to go up the passage leading to the Owlery.

"Protego!"

Scorpius ran into the shield, falling backwards onto the ground. He got up, only phased. Turning back, he saw Professor Longbottom tucking away his wand.

"You can either talk to me now or I can assign detention," Neville said calmly. "And believe me, we can have a good, long talk then."

Scorpius sighed, brushing the dust from his robes. "Look, I'm sorry, Professor, but I can't go back to your class. It's nothing personal, really."

Neville almost breathed a sigh of relief. Scorpius' mask of trained superiority dropped, as it only did when the boy was genuinely at a loss. "If you'd like, we can go up to my office and have a nice long chat," he offered. Scorpius blinked at him. There was a pause. "It's your father, isn't it? He doesn't want you to take Herbology."

Scorpius nodded, looking down at his shoes again. "Among other things, yea." For a moment, Neville felt something blossom in his chest.

"Come down to my office." He gave Scorpius a hearty pack on the back. "We'll have tea." Neville's hand gave an insistent but gentle push towards the region of the greenhouses.

Scorpius stood firm.

"I'm sorry, Professor," he said, moving away from Neville's hand. "But I have to go- uh. I mean, I have to send a letter." He gave a sheepish look towards Professor Longbottom, who quirked an eyebrow. Without thinking, Scorpius shuffled his hands into his robes, trying to produce said letter, a scrap of paper, something to prove that the slight blush spreading over his cheeks had nothing to do with his poorly disguised fib.

"Well, I see," Neville said, taking on an air of authority. Scorpius' blush deepened, realizing he was caught. Neville straightened, the corner of his lip threatening to tug upwards. "I guess this means 'good night', then." Then a vaguely knowing grin spread over his face. "And if you happen to meet anyone up there, please tell them 'hello' for me."

Scorpius bit his lip, giving a brief nod before turning to sprint up the steps.

"Oh, and Mr. Malfoy," Neville called. Scorpius popped his head back into view. "Detention, tomorrow night. To discuss your future in Herbology."

Scorpius shook his head to clear his mind as Professor Longbottom disappeared. For a moment there, he could have sworn he had seen the professor give him a wink.

He didn't dwell on this, though. He was already running late.

------------------

Rosie wrung her hands. It was cold for September, the threat of ice already was lingering in the air. She approached Sophie, who tilted her head and hooted cheerfully at Rosie's arrival.

Rosie smiled, raising her palm with a treasured owl treat, which Sophie ate quickly. She nipped at Rosie's hand, asking for more. "No no," Rosie said, a gentle laugh to her voice. "I want you to deliver something."

She reached into her robes, withdrawing a letter. Albus' messy handwriting could be plainly seen, even in the disappearing light.

Sophie gave a confused hoot, obviously not recognizing the writing as her mistress'.

"I know what you're thinking," Rosie said in a sweet voice. "Albus wanted to send the letter himself, but he was busy." Tying the letter onto Sophie's leg, the owl hooted complacently. "Alright, I'm lying. I'm supposed to meet someone."

Sophie, as if acknowledging that she understood, nuzzled Rosie's hand before taking off. The soft beating of her wings faded with the sunset, leaving her alone with her thoughts. Reaching into the collar of her robes, she withdrew the small locket that had been resting against her chest. Soon, very soon.

The past week seemed to go by so slowly. Every 6th year were excited about their N.E.W.T.S. classes (or at least excited to drop their most hated subjects after five long years). There were free periods of course, but they were taken up with studying and homework. She ached to be near Scorpius again but she was constantly being deterred. Albus had been particularly difficult to get around. He kept saying that Scorpius was sick, but Rosie knew that from the very first moment she saw him. Glimpses here and there told her that he was getting better, but he wasn't the same as he once was. Goyle and Zabini crowded around him like always, but it seemed more out of habit than Scorpius' commanding power. Maybe the majority of the student body couldn't tell the difference, but Rosie could.

That made the hastily written note she received that morning very odd.

_R,_

_Will you see me?_

_-S_

Rosie wrote back, but didn't hear anything until just before dinner. Albus grabbed her before she could enter the Great Hall, handing her a letter. It was addressed to Uncle Harry, but when she asked Albus why he couldn't send the letter himself, his pale skin flushed almost immediately. He mumbled something incoherent about having an appointment. He dodged every question she threw at him until he said "besides, Scorpius will be sending a letter tonight too."

She blinked at him fiercely, watching as he looked back into her eyes, his own twinkling.

Needing no further convincing, she left the Gryffindor table long before dinner was over. She was too excited to eat.

She took a deep, shuddering breath. After two months and a week of waiting, she would see Scorpius again. He hadn't forgotten her. Her father hadn't scared him off.

He was hers.

She broke from her reverie as she heard the sound of footsteps falling. The rushed slapping filled her ears with alarm, her adrenaline spiking fiercely. She turned to find Scorpius halted in the doorway, his normally neat hair disheveled, his grey eyes flashing in the moonlight.

Now that they were in the same room, it became clear how much they had changed over the past two months. They stood for a long moment, gauging each other. The world was silent, a dream that seemed to surreal to be true. At sixteen, they had lived lifetimes apart. Scorpius' eyes were paler, his face thinner. His lips were a hint redder than before, as if they were chapped and bitten. Bags were under his eyes.

Scorpius trembled, trying to force the air back into his body. Rosie was standing in the moonlight, radiant but all too thin. Albus had been telling the truth. Her depression over the past two months waved over her like a flag. Her hair seemed limp, her face pale. Her eyes became more pronounced. He had forgotten their intensity. But it seemed that he had forgotten a lot of things this summer.

"Scor-" Rosie whispered, moving towards him.

She might have remained reserved, but Scorpius could not hold back any longer. He had missed her, missed this, and he hadn't craved her for what seemed like a long time, although he remembered feeling an unquenchable thirst for something that he couldn't put his finger on. Some unknown force with dark hair and smoldering eyes that twisted his stomach in unpleasant knots.

He almost toppled her in his embrace. He grabbed at her, pinning her arms to her sides as he rocked them together. The knots in his stomach twisted harder, grief he didn't know he possessed gripped him as he took in the scent of her hair, jasmine wafting under his nose with a brute force.

He felt a sob in his chest, and wasn't sure if it was from him or from Rosie, but he couldn't bring himself to care. Her body fit so perfectly against his. She shuddered against him. Letting go wasn't not an option.

Snapping his eyes to the ceiling, he felt a sudden flash. A lump of metal was lodged between their chests. It pulsed harshly between them, and before he knew it, Rosie was flung from him. A violent hiss erupted as they fell to the ground, both teenagers looked at each other, bewildered.

Viedemal's image struck behind his eyelids, the only warning he got before pain ripped through his body, crippling him.

"SCORPIUS!" he heard Rosie scream before he blacked out completely.


	22. The Mystery

When Scorpius woke up, Professor Longbottom was towering over him.

"We have to get him to the infirmary," came the professor's voice, barely audible over the faint buzzing in his ears.

With a wave of his wand, the professor rose Scorpius in the air, leading him down the staircase. Turning his head, he saw Rosie, out of breath and sweating. She looked frightened.

Shuddering, Scorpius passed out again.

---------------

_Dad, _

_There's something wrong with Scorpius. He was fine the first week but then he saw Rosie. _

_What's happening to him? _

_-Al_

_------------------_

Harry examined Albus' letters very carefully. The mediwitch's report gave Scorpius a clean bill of health; nothing that a few hours of decent rest and a few full meals couldn't fix.

Tossing that particular letter into the rubbish bin, Harry took out a scroll of parchment and begin writing.

Across the top, he began to write down the evidence.

_Scorpius Malfoy: 16 years old_

_June: Ron Weasley attacks Scorpius. Dispute over Scorpius' relationship with Rose Weasley. Length of relationship unknown. Scorpius, up to this point, is fine. _

_Late June/ Early July: Malfoy family goes on holiday to an unknown destination. No word until September. _

_September: Malfoy family arrives at King's Cross. Destination: Hogwarts. Scorpius is unresponsive and obviously ill. Father claims that he is getting over a mild cold. _

_Current: At Hogwarts. Was weak and unresponsive. Was on the mend until he contacts Rose W. Collapse, has a fit. Mediwitch assessment: Exhaustion. Will be fine with proper care. Symptoms do not suggest that this course of treatment is correct. Still under investigation._

_Rose Weasley: 16 years old. _

_June: Witnesses her father's attack on Scorpius Weasley. _

_Late June/ Early July: Returns home. Moody and depressed. Does not eat. Brother reports strange obsession and reaction involving a locket of unknown origin. _

_September: Leaves for King's Cross. Destination: Hogwarts. Not noticeable change since the summer holidays. _

_Current: At Hogwarts. Seems to be a trigger to Scorpius' illness. No noted trigger before incident in Room of Requirement. Improvement made before contacting Scorpius. Reverting back to depression after incident in Owlery. _

_Albus Potter: 16 years old_

_June: Link between Rose W. and Scorpius M. Nervous and held back important information._

_Late June/ Early July: Typical teenager. Obvious but unspoken concern for Rose W. and Scorpius M._

_September: Leaves for King's Cross. Destination Hogwarts. See last note._

_Current: At Hogwarts. Informant. _

Despite himself, Harry remembered Albus' request about the Bat Bogey Hex and fondly grinned, adding _Overall prat _to his last line of notes.

The grin quickly fell from his face as he looked back over Albus' letters. A pattern was definitely there. But where was the connection? What could possibly be powerful enough to drain Scorpius of his health and strength? Moreso, how could a contact with Rose cause a relapse?

Scuffing a hand through his hair, Harry perused his thoughts, examined and re-examined his notes. What sort of dark magic was this? But more importantly, how could he stop it?

Harry scanned back through his notes. There was something in particular that interested him about the locket. Rosie, through Albus, had said that the locket had pulsed between them, as if it was angry about the close contact between the two.

Harry looked over his shoulder, checking that Ginny was not within view. Disrobing, he took a hand to his chest and felt the oval-shaped indent on his chest from when he was seventeen, fleeing from Godric's Hollow and Nagini's attack. The locket had started bonding to his skin, fully knowing that it would be rejoining its master very very soon.

---------------------

Almost as soon as Scorpius was released from the infirmary, he disappeared.

Albus was in a right panic. Rosie, as far as she was concerned, was simply being avoided. But for Albus, seeing that he shared a dorm with Scorpius, was not used to not seeing him.

Grabbing his father's snitched invisibility cloak, he made his way to the Gryffindor tower. James hadn't been the least bit pleased to find his younger brother riffling through his trunk for the Marauder's Map, but fell asleep quickly enough thanks to a well-cast hex or two.

Albus squinted in the dark for Scorpius' dot, but it was nowhere to be found. He replaced the map and struck out again along the seventh corridor. But the Room of Requirement was still warded off.

Punching the wall with a huff, Albus sunk to the ground, drawing his legs up. He rested his head on his knees and seethed. Scorpius might have regained some color and even a bit of good humor while in hospital, but he was nowhere near healthy. Rosie, in particular, was a sticky subject. There was a distinct fear in Scorpius Malfoy's eyes whenever she was mentioned, as if comprehension was slowly dawning on him why he was becoming so ill all the time.

What Albus really wanted to do at that moment was scream, yell, swear. He whispered out a few harsh words, but it wasn't very satisfying.

Dammit! He had given his word that he would look after Scorpius, and how was he to do that if the bloody wanker kept his mouth shut and disappeared all the time?

He stuffed a bit of his sleeve into his mouth and screamed, letting his throat release a muffled, deadened sound. Why did everything have to be so bloody hard?

After a moment of self-pity, he hoisted himself up again. It was late, and it wouldn't be long before someone would trace him out. His sleeve hadn't completely covered his scream, not to mention that there was always someone who came along the corridors eventually; whether it was ghost, a cat or a staff member.

He took a moment to listen out for any sounds of someone coming before he moved on himself. Hogwarts, at night, was hardly ever a quiet place. Peeves had to be somewhere, planning his next prank on anyone dumb enough to fall into his traps (Albus included himself on that list). When he felt fairly sure that the coast was clear, he made his way down to the Slytherin common room.

The dorm, as always, was quiet. Well, except for Hewitt, who had the tendency to snore like a brigade of bagpipes.

Albus took his time packing away the invisibility cloak. The thought crossed his mind that this would be a good time to make an unexpected visit to the Ravenclaw tower, but quickly vetoed the idea. He was too tired to care at the moment. If Scorpius ever got through whatever was happening to him, Albus would have to kill him for all the inconvenience this whole ordeal brought him. As it stood, Scorpius AT LEAST owed him a first-born.

He changed into his pajamas, giving a spine-crackling stretch and yawn, not bothering to turn on the light to see. In the morning, he'd report Scorpius' disappearance to his head of house and then to his dad. Albus' trepidation about squealing about his findings with his dorm mate and cousin was slowly diminishing. If they wanted to be weird and secretive, then he was going to spy on them. Scruples be damned. He grinned sleepily to himself. Maybe he took on more of Severus Snape than he wanted to admit.

He plopped down on the edge of his bed. Putting a hand to his face, he examined his nose; one he had thankfully inherited from his dad rather than Snape. Thankfully, there was no apparent bloodline connecting them, but if you were to be named after someone, you would think that there would be some sort of visual connection. The portraits of headmasters hung in Dobrinski's office, so he knew what Snape looked like, snarly bastard that he was. His dad had given him endless lectures about respecting authority, but from what his aunt, uncle and mother said, his father really had very little room to talk on the subject.

Albus' eyes floated shut as he scooted back a bit from the edge. He must be tired if he was picking apart Severus Snape's appearance. He laid down in his bed, shocked to find that someone was already in it.


	23. Albus

"Lumos!" Albus cried, going after his wand. The room was instantly flooded with light. "SCORPIUS!"

Indeed, Scorpius Malfoy was stretched out on his bed, covered in a damp traveling cloak. He grinned up at Albus, a goofy, blissful smile though a river of sweat.

He let out a high-pitched giggle, almost maniacal. Then the laughter got louder. And louder.

Albus backed up, instantly awake. Goyle and Zabini were waking up, Hewitt's snores immediately disappeared.

Scorpius' laughter almost came to the point of a scream, his voice bouncing off the walls with such intensity that voices could be heard outside of their dormitory doors.

His body began to twist and turn, caught in the traveling cloak that seemed to be holding onto itself by mere threads. It was dirty and wet, as if Scorpius had traveled a long way through muck and rain.

Scorpius let out a howl, his body convulsing. He began to laugh again, baring his throat, covered in marks and sweat. The laughter was desperate, hoarse. His hair was matted and tangled.

Giving another twist on the bed, Scorpius abruptly shot up, his upper-body swaggering. "Viedemal," he groaned through his teeth. "Where is… Viedemal?"

His scarlet eyes seemed to bore into Albus with hungry intensity.

Albus, helplessly caught in Scorpius' demonic glaze, shuddered. "I-I don't know," he whispered.

Then he watched as Scorpius' eyes faded to grey again, rolling up inside his head before collapsing back onto the bed.

For a moment, no one dared to move. Scorpius' former frantic cries and laughter seemed to reverberate from the walls, echoing in their ears.

"Go get Professor Saffrun," Albus said, voice barely audible.

"But what-"

Albus turned so suddenly that a 2nd year, a small boy with wide eyes and wild, dark red hair who had snuck into to investigate the yelling, jumped nearly a foot back. "GO GET PROFESSOR SAFFRUN!" Albus barked. "NOW!"

The 2nd year tripped over his dressing gown trying to get away, stumbling down the stairs loudly.

"Viedemal… Viedemal… _yes…_" Scorpius hissed from the bed. He seemed asleep, but was tossing and turning. His eyelids clenched painfully, but he grabbed as the bedclothes, wriggling wantonly. His chest heaved. "Please… _please_!"

"We're getting help!" Albus said, scrambling onto the bed. He grabbed at the cloak, the fastening at the collar was digging deeper into Scorpius' neck by the second. He ripped it off, letting it fall to the bed. Scorpius' face, still high in color, seemed to ease a bit, but his feverish rantings werestrong as ever.

"Hold on!" Albus said as he went to unbutton the collar on Scorpius' shirt. His hand touched some of Scorpius' bare skin and pulled back. He cried out at the sharp pain and, as if he had been burned, the barest hint of smoke rose from his finger tips.

Scorpius howled, eyes sprang open. Rather than exposing his normally grey cold eyes, they flashed fiery red again.

Then a voice, not recognizable as Scorpius', but a high, hotly hissing, cruel female voice, erupted from his throat.

"_YOUR FILTHY HALF-BLOOD WILL NEVER STOP ME!" _

And once again, red fading from his eyes, Scorpius laid still.

-----------------

The evening passed by in a blur. For one, Albus' hands couldn't stop shaking. His legs joined in, never happy with him until he was pacing around. Professor Saffrun had assured him that Scorpius would be fine, that he just needed his rest. But when he looked in her eyes, he could see the underlined worry. This did nothing to calm Albus' frayed nerves.

_Dad, _he wrote:

_Come quick._

_-Al _

It wasn't much, but it was all he could manage at the moment.

Harry came alright. He was there within minutes after receiving the owl. However he went directly to the headmistress' office, leaving Albus out in the cold hallway. It took him hours to immerge again, grabbing Albus, who had been waiting somewhat impatiently in the corridor, and dragging him into an empty classroom.

Albus began shaking again. This time, not from fear or old, but from the harsh way that Harry sat him down at the nearest workbench, beginning to interrogate Albus immediately.

Feeling absolute rage boiling inside of him, Albus clenched his fists. He already went through this with Mme Saffrun and the headmistress. He didn't need to relive what happened in the dorm. Harry rounded on him before even expressing any sort of concern. Not a word of comfort, not even a ruddy hello. That's the thanks that Albus got.

"GEROFF!" Albus cried, wrenching himself away from the table, and thus, his father. "I'M YOUR SON! NOT YOUR BLOODY STOOGE!"

Harry looked back at his son, blinking away surprise as if he had been slapped. Albus strode away, standing with his back to him, hands balling into fists.

He took a series of deep breaths, counting backwards from one hundred as Professor Longbottom had taught him. The shaking seemed to grow from his spine outwards.

His father waited, letting Albus calm down a bit. "Al," he said after a few moments. "Come sit down with me."

"No!" Albus snipped.

"How am I supposed to know what's wrong if you don't tell me?" Harry countered.

Anger flaring up again. Albus spun around on his heel, too mad to control himself. "You don't know? You honestly don't know? LET'S SEE THEN, SHALL WE?" Albus yelled. "All you can think about is Scorpius! Even Mum and Aunt Hermione have told you to bugger off and you haven't! YOU'RE OBSESSED! And not only do you round on me when I haven't bloody fucking done anything, but all you care about is what I can pass on back to you! YOU DON'T CARE ABOUT ANYTHING BUT BEING RIGHT! I'M SCARED SHITLESS AND ALL YOU WANT TO KNOW IS WHAT HAPPENED WITH SCORPIUS! I'M YOUR SON AND YOU DON'T CARE WHAT'S HAPPENING TO ME!"

He grabbed a book that had been left there, hurling it at the wall. The binding broke, sending pages fluttering around the room. "YOU DON'T CARE! I HATE YOU!"

Albus panted heavily, tears beginning to prickle hotly in his eyes.

Harry, behind his spectacles, blinked back.

Closing his eyes, Harry reached down deep inside himself and buried that small but powerful part of him that wanted to fight back. Dumbledore had been right. Old men were guilty of forgetting what it was like to be young. Albus' rage swept over him in waves, just as his rage might have done at Dumbledore at the end of his 5th year.

Justifiable rage, but rage nonetheless.

"Al-" Harry said cautiously.

"Shut up," Albus replied, venom deep in his voice. "I don't want to hear it."

Letting out a heavy sigh, Harry delved into his robes.

Albus let out a bitter, humorless laugh. "Typical. Going to hex me now? Can't think of a damn excuse so you're going to fix it all with magic?"

Harry shot his son a look, but gave his wand a small flick. The book repaired itself, and both men watched as it floated to another work bench, out of harm's way. Then Harry flipped the wand over in his hand. Rather than gripping the handle, he rested the shaft in his palm. Their green eyes met, Albus glaring, Harry determined to keep the contact from breaking.

In a gesture that should have surprised them both, Harry leaned so far forward that his stomach was resting on the wooden surface. Setting the wand down, he settled back in his chair, steepling his fingers. It was made very clear that his wand was out of reach and that Harry wanted it that way.

Albus blinked, obviously startled. He never knew his father to make his own wand inaccessible, even if it was quickly remedied within a matter of seconds.

"Al. Albus," Harry said, almost cautiously. "I'm afraid that I owe you an apology."

His son looked from his father's hands to his face, but then quickly looked away.

"Right," Harry said, his gaze never leaving his son's face. "I'm sorry. But it's my job. You know that."

Albus scoffed. "It's always about your job."

"I haven't been fair to you-"

"'_But no one said life was fair,'"_ Albus said in a mocking sing-song voice. "Look, I've heard it all before, ok?"

"I know you have," Harry couldn't keep the edge from his voice. "But I'm trying to-"

"TRYING TO WHAT?" Albus barked. "That's all it's been from day one! Scorpius this and Rosie that! How about even further than that? 'When I was your age, when I was younger than you…' That's all it is! Me, James and Lily? No! We've never been through as much as you! We've never had to fight a dragon! Or get tortured or- or possessed! We've never been starved! We've never been locked in cupboards! Yea, we've all heard about the Dursley's!" Albus spat at his father's look of surprise. "We've never been attacked by Voldemort! We've never had to worry about these things!

"But what do you know about being the son of Harry Fucking Potter? NOTHING! _You _don't have to hear teachers say 'when your father went here'. _You _don't have kids bugging you to come up with a patronus and laugh in your face when you can't do it. _You _don't have to have people asking where your scar is, or what it's like to have people hound you down for your father's autograph! _You _don't have to wonder if they like you or just your famous dad! _You _don't have to live in your fucking shadow! _You _don't have to hear about how fucking _perfect _you are!"

"Al, your mother and I warned you, from 1st year on, that that might happen." Harry leaned forward a bit, peering over his glasses. "What's really going on here?"

Albus tottered on his feet, looking into his father's eyes. He wanted to continue storming at Harry, but something broke in him. He slid to the floor, laying down on his back. It was much easier to think when he didn't have to look at his father, his eyes steady but brimming with hurt.

"I'm scared," Albus admitted in a hoarse, soft voice. "When Scorpius was thrashing in my bed, I tried to remove his cloak. It was choking him. When I touched his skin, he burned me." Raising his hand to his face, he marveled at the angry red marks that were still on his fingers. "His eyes were red. He was screaming. I couldn't do anything but watch it happening. I panicked." Albus' voice shuddered. "I thought he was dying but I couldn't do anything." He paused, staring up at the ceiling. "I've never seen someone die before," he said, almost in a whisper.

He closed his eyes, the only sound in the room was their intermingled breathing. Albus' harsh; desperately trying to regain control. Harry's calm and steady.

After a moment, Harry's chair scraped again the floor. His robes billowed as he went to his son, kneeling beside him. "Here," he said, reaching into his robes and pulling out a handkerchief. He handed it to Albus.

With a sheepish look, Albus took it. Rather than drying his eyes or blowing his nose, he placed it over his face. A hint of shame swept over him, feeling a blush starting to spread across his cheek.

Harry, however, had the tact to understand the gesture. He sat himself down next to his son. He waited only a moment, considering his words.

"Maybe I don't say it often enough," Harry said. "But I'm proud of you. All of you." He looked down on his covered son, but Albus made no sign that he heard him. Harry continued. "Professor Dobrinski told me what happened tonight. That you were the one to try to help him. All the boys reported the same thing. That you were the one to call for your head of house when everyone was standing around, staring." He gave another pause. "When I was your age, I would have been too scared to do that."

Harry robes rustled again as he moved to sit down, making himself comfortable. "Look, when I was in 6th year, I attacked another student." Albus gave a stir. "Quite brutally actually. There was blood everywhere. If Professor Snape hadn't come at the right time, I'm pretty sure that he would have been very seriously injured. Maybe he would have died."

Albus removed the handkerchief from his face. He didn't make a move to get up, but stared up at his father. "What happened?"

"What else? I got in trouble." Harry gave a short, bitter laugh. "In fact, even my head of house was so pissed that she banned me from Quidditch for the rest of the year and practically insisted that I spend every week in detention. But that's really not the important part of this story."

"What is it then?" Albus said, propping himself up into a sitting position. "What's the point?"

"The fact is," Harry said, "Is that I panicked. You see, the spell I used to attack the other student with was illegal. I didn't know what it would do until I used it, but I should have known better. I read it from a book, and I knew that if I was caught, I would probably be expelled." Harry let out a heavy sigh. "The first thing I did was hide the book. I was so scared of what would happen if I was found out that I wasn't even all that concerned if the student that I had attacked would be ok. At that moment, all I could think about was saving my own hide."

Albus blinked at his father in disbelief. Harry Potter, the great defender of the wizarding world, had brutally attacked someone. He wasn't perfect. It just didn't seem possible. The only think that wasn't surprising about the whole story was the fact that he hadn't heard it before. Next he would tell Albus something ludicrous, like using an Unforgivable Curse or something equally out of place.

"I'm not perfect, Albus," Harry said. "I've made a lot of mistakes in my life, but there have been a lot of things I couldn't help, and it's taken me a long time to stop blaming myself for the things I couldn't stop; for deaths and injuries that weren't my fault. When I was fourteen, one of my classmates died and I watched it happen. His name was Cedric Diggory."

Albus' eyes widened, but Harry ignored it.

"Voldemort killed him because he was with me. He was in the way. From that point on, I was absolutely convinced that if Voldemort wanted me so badly, that I had to go it alone. I convinced myself that it was better that way; if I was the only one between him and his glory, no one else would have to die. It didn't occur to me at the time that it would mean that I would be an easier target for him. I was young, inexperienced and stubborn. I would have died very quickly if the people I should have trusted more hadn't stepped in."

Placing his hand on his son's shoulder, Harry continued.

"You did something incredible last night, Albus," Harry said. "You tried to help him, and I believe you did. You called me here, and I can now get the Aurors to investigate, thanks to you. You saw immediate danger, knew that you couldn't handle it on your own and called for help. When I was in school and for a while after, I tried to do everything myself, and that's what caused most of my problems. And-" Harry lowered his gaze. "-and to be honest, if our places were reversed, I would have probably caused more harm than good. It takes a strong man to admit that he's in over his head."

Albus just sat there, stunned. But he was the first to break the silence. "Dad- I…"

"Look," Harry said. His hands went into his robes. "You've done a bloody brilliant job so far, and I know that I've asked a lot from you over the past few months. I admit, I haven't been a very good father lately."

"But you're not-"

"Don't argue with me, Albus Severus Potter," Harry scolded mockingly. "I've been a down-right git, and don't you forget it."

Albus let a faint hint of a smile pass over his lips.

Harry finally found what he was looking for: a small bit of broken mirror and a small unbroken one. The broken mirror's edges seemed to be sanded-down for safety sake. He handed Albus the unbroken piece.

"These belonged to Grandpa Potter and his friend, Sirius Black. They used it to communicate when they were in separate detentions. Sirius gave me this one," he held up the broken piece "when I was in my 5th year. He told me to use it whenever I needed to talk with him. I'm giving you your granddad's mirror, and I'm telling you the same thing. If you need to talk with me- about Scorpius, about Rosie- About _you_," Harry emphasized, "then call for me. I'll come as quick as I can. Promise."

Harry took Albus' hand in his, pressing the unbroken glass in his palm.

Albus tightened his hand around the glass. Harry never talked about these things with his children. There were always rare glimpses and lectures, but he was never frank about his time at school. His grandfather was a prickly subject in the Potter house-hold, even though James was named after him. Professor Snape's headmaster portrait was always disdainful about his family, James Potter Sr. seeming to be the greatest of offenders.

Just like himself, his brother and sister, they ached to know James Potter and Lily Evans. Were they like themselves? Were they like Grandma Molly and Grandpa Arthur? All they had to go by were some faded photographs that they had found at the bottom of a bureau drawer. Harry, it seemed, was content to lock them away for himself forever.

Turning over his bit of mirror, Albus stupidly wanted to hide it away. All for himself and no one else. It might not be much, but it was something.

At his father's look, Albus put the mirror into his pocket. "Thank you, Dad."

Harry helped him to his feet, a gentle smile on his faintly scarred lips. "Come here, you," he said gruffly, pulling his son into a hug. Albus responded like any normal sixteen year old, stiffening as his arms were trapped in Harry's embrace; taking the hug without returning the gesture.

Not that this mattered to Harry.

He hung on a second longer than he normally would have, making sure that Albus understood its intent before releasing him.

They shared a brief but meaningful smile for a moment before Harry patted him heartily on the back. "It's been a long night for you. I'm sure you're exhausted. A good meal and a lie-down might just do the trick. We'll have a nice quiet breakfast in the staffroom and then I'll take you back down to your dorm." Harry began to lead him out of the room. As if Harry's comment triggered it, Albus' stomach gave a feeble rumble, his eyes beginning to droop.

Random students were beginning to mill about the halls, and as Harry Potter and his youngest son disappeared into the staffroom, they could hear Albus' voice asking "Now about that Bat Bogey Hex…"


	24. Spirited Away

**Author's note:**

Everyone has been absolutely wonderful with their reviews. It's very encouraging, and the fact that Viedemal is still confusing you really makes me happy in an odd, twisted way. :-P And Albus is really a character that has come into his own. Gods, I love that little Slytherin.

Anyway, I know that I've put my characters through the ringer, and you along with them. Just to let you know, I've started writing the epilogue, and it's fluffy. Like, bunny slippers and static electricity fluffy. So for all of you thinking that I'm doing all this stuff only to make things horribly sad at the end... well... don't plan on sending those hexed Howlers yet. Ok?

-------------------

Outside the dark infirmary window, the wind howled its discontent.

Scorpius wasn't sure how to describe it. Hadn't he just left the hospital this morning? What was he doing back?

For that matter, what landed him in hospital in the first place?

Albus had told him that he had been sick before coming to Hogwarts, but that didn't explain anything. He couldn't recall the summer either.

He sat up, looking around the room. Scorpius was the only one there.

His lack of memory wasn't the only thing that disturbed him. Sitting up exposed a lot of things, including a deep, uneasy pain that ached over his body. Random marks and scratches that hadn't been there before.

How, in the name of Merlin, had he acquired those?

The wind grew louder outside. A cold chill swept over him, one that seemed vaguely familiar.

It was late, but it seemed to Scorpius that he had been in bed for quite a while. Perhaps too long, judging by how sore he was. He reached for his dressing gown and pulled it on. He got up, going to the bathroom at the end of the hall to stretch his muscles. Having used the facilities, he poured himself a glass of water, downing the lot before roaming around the room, carefully treading as to not wake the medi-witch on duty.

At the far end of the room, the windows rattled.

Or rather, one did.

In fact, all the other windows seemed very calm.

Scorpius crossed the room. Perhaps the hinges on this window were loose. But Mme Scott, who ran the infirmary, didn't usually let something like a less-than-air-tight window pass her notice; So to see it rattling was beyond odd.

Approaching the window slowly, it he watched as the wind battered against it. The rattling grew stronger, seeming to rock violently against the wood and glass holding it in place.

Placing his hand on the pane, the rattling stopped.

Scorpius let out a breath that he hadn't realized he was holding. The room became eerily quiet. The wind paused.

Shaking his head, as if he imagined it, he withdrew his hand.

The window, as if it were a restrained animal, lurched, clattering louder than ever.

He almost jumped back, then tentatively, he placed his hand back on the frame of the window.

As if nothing happened, everything grew calm again.

"What's going on here?" Scorpius muttered. The answer was silence. Tracing his hand along the glass, he watched as a dense fog followed his fingers, then spread, heading towards the latch.

He glancing up from his hand, staring at his reflection, he noticed how weary he looked. This person, gazing back at him, was not him. Not who he was. His face was too pale, premature lines beginning to form. Scorpius was too young for wrinkles, but there they were- as if he had been under so much stress that he had started to crack.

Before he could dwell on this, the fog grew. Not just out toward the latch, but covering the entire window. Just as quickly as it appeared, it retreated, leaving Scorpius to look at his likeness.

His smiling, red-eyed likeness.

But physically, Scorpius was not smiling.

His likeness looked back at him, its grin predatory.

"What do you want?" Scorpius murmured, fingers curling on the glass.

His likeness didn't mimic his movement as it should have. Rather, it pressed its hand against the glass more firmly. The eyes twinkled with emotion that seemed almost foreign to him, but not quite. This face in the window was familiar, but it wasn't his.

The skin paled, taking on the impression of delicate, well-cared-for porcelain, rather than bleak and tired. The hair lengthened, becoming black and wavy. The eyes transformed, deepening into a rich, chocolate brown. The face became rounder; the harsh masculine lines of Scorpius' breeding became softer, lips plumping up.

The transformation took less than a minute, but the hunger that had been written across it before was the same. A look that, again, did not belong to Scorpius.

Scorpius took a moment to take in the image before him. There was something familiar about it; chilling. The woman before his eyes was beautiful, but he couldn't shake the feeling that here was something dangerous about her.

"Who are you?" he said, barely above a whisper.

The grin grew more sly, baring her teeth. She ran the tip of her tongue over her lips, wetting them seductively.

"What do you want?" Scorpius asked again.

The woman in the window mouthed one word: _you._

Once again, the fog that surrounded Scorpius' fingertips spread out toward the latch. This time, Scorpius' hand began to follow.

The metal latch felt warm under Scorpius' fingers, as if it had already been touched. That was impossible. He was the only one in the infirmary. Pulling the latch down, he gave the window a push.

The room filled with the high hiss of the wind outside.

"Scorpius…" it whispered. He took a gasp, as if he had been plunged into ice cold water.

"Scorpius…" the wind beckoned.

Climbing onto the windowsill, he followed.


	25. Neville the Spy

Dobrinski sat at her desk, head in her hands. This could not be happening. Not at her school.

Professors Longbottom and Saffrun stood in front of her desk, not daring to move or speak. Headmistress Dobrinski was usually unflappable. The office was quiet, the headmasters of the past feigning sleep. After all, it was late. There also seemed to be an unwritten rule amongst the portraits. One must, at least pretend to not be interested.

For a long moment, nothing happened. Just when Neville began to get restless, Dobrinski's head shot up.

"Longbottom," she said. "You tutored him two days ago." Neville nodded. "How was he then?"

"Tired, like always."

"But otherwise fine?" Dobrinski asked.

"Yes."

Dobrinski got up from behind her desk, pacing. "Saffrun. You're his head of house. What's been going on?"

"Honestly," Professor Saffrun answered. "I don't know. Between his disappearances and his time in hospital, his grades are better off being nonexistent. He won't speak to anyone, not even to his dorm mates."

"And what about Miss Weasley?" Dobrinski asked, stepping toward Professor Saffrun. "What kind of contact has he had with her?"

"I'll field that one," Neville replied. He tried to keep himself relaxed when the headmistress turned to him. "Rose Weasley has been keeping her distance. She seems to think that her contact with him causes these… relapses- for want of a better term." Headmistress Dobrinski took up pacing again. "What about Draco Malfoy?" Neville offered. "What does he think?"

"I've written Scorpius' father several times," Dobrinski stated firmly, drawing up several parchments. "But he seems unconcerned. I've suggested moving Scorpius out of Hogwarts and into St. Mungo's for care and observation, but I don't have the power to do that without his father's permission. It's obvious that we can not protect him and given his state at the moment, it is clear that his education is the least of anyone's concerns." She sat down into her chair heavily, tapping on the stack of parchments on her desk, a look of concentration pulled across her face.

"What about Harry?" Neville said after letting the headmistress mull over her thoughts. "Hasn't he taken a personal interest in the case?"

"I assume," Dobrinski said in a clipped tone, "that you are referring to Mr. Potter as the Senior Director of the Auror Department." Gathering up her papers, she leaned forward, indicating for Neville to take them. "These are his reports over the past three months." She watched as Neville flipped through the papers. "As you can see, his findings are inconclusive."

"May I borrow these, Professor?" Neville said, one particular notation arousing his interest. Dobrinski gave him a curt nod, which he returned. The parchments disappeared into his robes.

Dobrinski leaned back in her chair, steepling her fingers. She peered over her hands, giving her professors a calculating look. She glanced at the wall of past headmasters, giving a direct look to an exact spot before addressing the pair in front of her. "Longbottom, I would like for you to remain close to Scorpius. He seems to respond better under your care. He's at the right age and thanks to you, his O.W.L.S in Herbology were fair enough to qualify him as your assistant, a job that will allow him to take lodgings in the greenhouses. I realize that this may be an inconvenience for you, but-"

"Not an inconvenience, Headmistress. I assure you," Neville said. He puffed out his chest, a bit of pride creeping across his face. "It would be an honor to take him on. He has the potential to be a brilliant herbologist."

"Good," the headmistress said. If she was surprised over Professor Longbottom's enthusiasm, she did not show it. "That will also give us the added bonus that you will be there to keep an eye on him." She glanced over at Professor Saffrun. "Since we will be moving Scorpius out of the dorm, I expect you to take care of his house-mates. Explain the situation, keep then at bay until we settle him in."

This time, she turned her attention to them both. "We will put up wards, keep some extra security around him. Mr. Potter's reports were not very encouraging and I don't believe such measures are out of place." She rose from her desk. "Are we agreed?" They nodded. "Any questions?" Both professors shook their heads. "You are dismissed then," she said.

Dobrinski took up her quill, jotting a note. Saffrun left, needing no further direction. Neville, however, wandered off; meandering to the various artifacts on the walls. He took in each piece in turn until he came to the wall just opposite of the headmasters' portraits. He stopped at Godric Gryffindor's sword, lifting it from its spot, running his hand over the blade.

Gripping the ruby-encrusted handle, he swung the sword with a satisfying swish.

"PROFESSOR LONGBOTTOM!" he heard Dobrinski shout. He looked back over his shoulder at the headmistress, making sure to keep his grin out of sight. "What in the name of Merlin do you think you're doing?"

"Just reliving some old memories, Headmistress," he remarked. "You know, I used this sword to destroy Voldemort's last horcrux."

"Yes, a large snake by the name of Nagini," Dobrinski said curtly. "Believe it or not, I am aware of your contribution to the war. It was well-documented in your record. Now if you don't mind," she said, irritation heavy in her voice "I have some things I need to take care of."

"Yes. Of course. My apologies, Professor," Neville said in an almost off-handed manner. He took great care in putting the sword in its rightful place, lingering for a moment. When he thought that the headmistress wasn't looking, he glanced over his shoulder. Just opposite sat the dozing portrait of Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore. Neville smiled to himself as he made a last minute adjustment to the swords position.

Hearing Dobrinski clearing her throat, he gave her a brief nod. "Sorry," he said, crossing the room and closing the door behind him.


	26. Draco's Mistake

The moment Neville shut the door, the quill hovering over the parchment that the headmistress was working on paused.

His footsteps faded down the staircase, but she kept her eyes down-cast for a moment more before she dared to lay down her quill.

Raising from her desk, she took up a slow but purposeful walk down the row of portraits. Many were still feigning sleep. She stopped at the end of the portraits, turning to face the owner. Removing her glasses from the perch of her nose, she proceeded to clean them. Replacing them on her face, she eyed the portrait suspiciously.

"Professor. Profess- Professor!"

But the headmaster only gave a sleepy grunt, his chin digging against his chest. He snored on.

"PROFESSOR!"

"There is no need to shout," said a silky voice from the next portrait over. Dobrinski shot a foul look at the voice. "Perhaps I can be of assistance?" he said, in a way that clearly said that he had no intention of helping her.

"No, Severus. I won't be needing your 'assistance'. Thank you." She turned back to the portrait in question. "Professor! Dumbledore!" In a move of uncharacteristic immaturity, she withdrew her wand and poked at his shoulder. Dumbledore twitched and gave a disgruntled huff. He muttered some nonsense about lollies, but didn't wake.

"Always so impatient." Snape clucked his tongue. "If memory serves, that was always your main failing in my classes."

"You were a dismal teacher. Merlin knows why you were ever hired to begin with." Dobrinski shot back. Dumbledore, annoyingly enough, was still napping. "He knows something," she said. "And I need to know what."

"Don't be stupid, Professor," Snape drawled. Dobrinski turned her head so fast that her neck popped. "Unless you want to waste your time and mine hearing about the latest joke sweets and the fanatic yet unfounded ravings over the 'great' Potter," he sneered at the name "then I wouldn't bother. Please spare me the torture of such a performance."

Snape found himself, very quickly, staring down a steady wand that was pointed at his nose.

"The Ministry might have believed the cock and bull story about your contribution against You-Know-Who. And maybe they even consider you a hero. But as far as I'm concerned, you were nothing but a power-seeking prat, scuffling under the skirts of anyone willing to take you in."

Snape smiled wryly. "Your lack of creativity shames me, Professor. A 1st Hufflepuff would have done better. Perhaps we shall call one up to give you lessons."

Behind her spectacles, Dobrinski seethed. "Infernal fool!" she gritted out.

Dumbledore, as he had been for the past few hours, dozed.

Giving one final glare to Snape, Dobrinski tucked her wand back into her robes. "He's got to be awake _sometime._" She stalked away from Dumbledore and headed out of her office, muttering.

Then, from Snape's portrait, came a sound that could only be described as a growl. "I know you're awake, Albus," he spat.

"Indeed I am, Severus," came the response, completely devoid of all hints of just waking up.

"Insubordination!" the other portraits cried. "Bound to serve! Bound to serve!"

"Ah!" Dumbledore seemed to hum. Snape could picture the former headmaster in his mind, calmly folding his hands on his lap in that revoltingly endearing way of his. More often than not, it meant trouble. "But, as our bi-law states, we are free to withhold information if we believe that it would cause harm. Isn't that right?"

A mumbling came from the other portraits, deliberating on this view. Several unhappy grunts agreed. One portrait, however, seemed to disagree.

"BLAST IT, DUMBLEDORE!" Phineas shouted. A neighboring headmistress let out a prissy huff. "That boy is my great great nephew! Or at least, I'm related to him in some way or another- Is this how you treat the sons of war heroes?"

"Draco Malfoy was hardly a war hero," Snape hissed. "He was a Slytherin with a guilty conscience, as was I. But since we are on the subject, Albus, I think now would be the time to stop putting my godson's son in danger and alert the proper authorities."

"I think not, Severus," Dumbledore replied in a crisp, frank voice.

Snape took in a deep breath. As the years wore on, his patience with Dumbledore became remarkably thin. Now would not be the time to lose his head. "_Sir_, Draco's promise has been fulfilled, has it not, that his son be married to Viedemal and help her gain power? By now she must have had the opportunity to suck out most of his magic. He is no-longer needed."

"Ah Severus," Dumbledore said. Snape could just imagine that blasted self-satisfied smile. "Remember that day, long ago? You were barely twenty. A death-eater, looking for a job and poking around key-holes."

Snape's back stiffened, his teeth grinding.

"Just as it was then, it is now. Unfortunately, my dear boy, you lack all the information. And seeing as such, the Unbreakable Vow that Draco made is still in play. So as you can see, Severus, to give away the information now would do, as they say, more harm than good."

"DAMN YOU, ALBUS!" Snape bellowed. "What part of the Vow hasn't been fulfilled yet?" The only response came from the disgruntled portraits from his yelling. "If there is something that can be done to end her sadism, then out with it! I will not stand here and indulge your whims of fancy any longer!" There came a pause. "If you don't tell Dobrinski, then I will!"

"But will she believe you, Severus?" came the calm reply.

For a moment, all that could be heard was Snape's outraged breathing. Snape, just as the other headmasters, knew the answer to that question perfectly well. Portrait's duty or no, Snape's relationship with Dobrinski was rocky at best and everyone knew it.

Snape collected himself, taking in harsh breaths. Every bridge he burned throughout his life came back to haunt him, and Dumbledore benefited from almost every one of them. Dumbledore sat patiently waiting for Snape to bring forth his next round of protests, giving a half-smile when he finally heard the faint but clear response "what must we do?"

"My dear boy," Dumbledore said with a wink toward the sword of Godric Gryffindor, "we have just done it."

--------------------

Harry's grip on Sirius' mirror was tight, painfully so. Dumbledore's bright blue eye winked at him and he watched as all the portraits fussed about for more information. Snape looked livid, but Dumbledore seemed to be out of interest, refusing to say more on the subject.

Harry set down the mirror and removed his glasses. Rubbing his eyes, he thought back on the argument, dissecting it piece by piece. Harry gave a silent thanks for the inspiration of setting up the mirrors with an audio charm between them. This gave him all sorts of new information, but it left a lot of questions still unanswered.

"Why can't he say anything directly?" he moaned. Dumbledore knew he was watching the conversation. That wink, the peering over his moon-shaped spectacles meant that he had seen Harry's eye in the mirror. Thankfully, no one else had seemed to notice.

Harry felt seventeen again. The answer was so close, yet so far away. And Dumbledore was intent on giving Harry only half-clues and nudges. This would go much easier this would be if he was just told what to do.

But you would just jump in and ruin it all, if that was the case.

But what was wrong with that anyway? He wasn't fifteen anymore. He knew what he was doing.

Or do you?

Harry clenched his jaw. There was only one man who could give him answers now.

Scribbling a note to Ginny, he walked out the front door and Apparated to Malfoy Manor.

------------------

**AN**: Ok, some explaination to this chapter. What you just read is meant to be the beginning of the end. I know it's frustrating, but we're going to be getting to the bottom of a lot of things rather quickly in these upcoming chapters. So just keep that in mind as you're reading.

I'm afraid I've made a few too many layers for myself with this story, so please feel free to point out any loose ends that I'm not tying up, or anything that is not making sense (within reason, obviously).

Again, thank you for everyone who has helped out with this story and guided (and threatened me along). This story could not have been written without those threats. :-P


	27. The Summons

When Scorpius tottered out of hospital, Neville was waiting in the hallway. Scorpius muttered a hello and went to walk towards the Slytherin house when the professor wrapped an arm around his shoulder and lead him in the opposite direction.

"We've moved you down to the greenhouses. All your belongings are there and it's been explained to your housemates. You're my new assistant! Isn't that exciting?"

To be honest, Scorpius was too tired to care.

Taking in the view, he supposed it wasn't that bad. Professor Longbottom's quarters were small but cozy. Small kitchen, a sitting room, a bedroom and a lavatory. The hallway closet had been transfigured into a comfortable but modest bedroom for Scorpius, done up in Slytherin colors ("to feel more at home," Neville explained.) With a feeble flick of his wand, Scorpius morphed the colors to odd shades of turquoise and pink.

Professor Longbottom lifted a curious eyebrow.

"I've always liked blue and red, but I guess-"

Neville flicked his own wand, letting the colors finish their transformation.

"Thank you, Professor," Scorpius said quietly. "I guess I'll get to bed now."

"Not so fast, young man," Neville scolded. Scorpius shook his head, alarmed by the sudden authoritative tone in the professor's voice. "First, some supper. Now don't you roll your eyes at me. Besides, I made this myself. I'll be very disappointed if you refuse. Now that's a good lad. C'mon."

Scorpius stumbled along, feeling himself being plopped down in front some roasted beef, vegetables and potatoes- even a small glass of wine just to the left of his plate. As his belly filled slowly, the professor talked calmly and steadily about the next week's classes; asking Scorpius' advice, quizzing him on different species of fungi, asking how to best teach the younger years ("old duffers like us tend to forget, you know") and other random things.

Indeed, the crackle of the fire, the comfortable ramblings from Longbottom and a full stomach soon relaxed Scorpius considerably. After the second time he tried to nod off into his pudding, Neville declared that the meal was over. He lead Scorpius out of his chair and into the sitting room for evening tea, intent on warming by the fire a bit before bed.

Scorpius half-dozed as Professor Longbottom continued talking about procuring specimens for after the Christmas holidays when Scorpius heard a faint hiss. Stiffening in his armchair, he tried focusing on the professor's speech.

"Scorpius…" the hiss whispered.

Neville did not seem to notice.

"Scorpius…" the hiss said, more insistent this time.

_No_, Scorpius thought. _Not here. I'm safe here. I'm comfortable._

"Come to me…" the hiss said.

_No!_

"Scorpius! Are you alright?"

Scorpius snapped out of his trance, feeling heat creep up his collar. "Yea, I'm fine," he said, nodding a bit too fervently.

Neville seemed far from convinced, but dropped the subject. "Well, it is almost 10:30. Classes tomorrow and all." He got up from his chair. "You know where the loo is, so I'll just be clearing the table if you want to wash up before bed."

Scorpius nodded. Part of him wanted to stay up, distract himself from the nagging hiss in his head. More and more, he came to recognize it for what it was. A summons. Although he wasn't clear on what it meant, he knew that it had something to do with his reoccurring illness; his repeated but unexplainable injuries. More and more there came flashes of a woman, black hair and brown eyes, coupled with a cold, vindictive smile. More than once she appeared in his nightmares, and in these nightmares, there was always a sense of unparalleled beauty but also madness, hatred and malice. There would be considerable pain and agony, and when he woke up again, he would be drenched with sweat and hoarse as if he had been screaming. During those times, he was told, he had been gone for several days.

On one occasion, Albus had shown him a patch of grass under an infirmary window that looked trampled. Apparently, he had jumped out of it made his way to the Forbidden Forest, based on the tracks. He had reappeared two days later, almost completely nude and shivering in the entryway.

Scorpius took his time in the lavatory, washing his face and his hair. He avoided his own reflection as much as possible nowadays. He didn't need his image to remind him or thin and tired he was. Although, dinner with Professor Longbottom did heighten his spirits.

"Assistant Herbology professor," Scorpius said, smiling fondly into his towel. He wasn't even officially taking the subject and he was Professor Longbottom's assistant. It was true that he sat through one-on-one unofficial classes with the professor two nights a week (when he was able), but they had covered a lot that couldn't be covered when dozens of other students hovered around you, all needing attention is some way or another.

Turning off the tap, Scorpius lifted his head and imagined himself in Professional Herbology robes, soiled with Stinksap and dirt.

Perhaps there was a future waiting for him after all.

"Scorpius…"

He stilled, his ears perking.

"Scorpius…"

Gripping onto the sink, he tried to clear his mind. _No, _he thought quietly and firmly. _I won't!_

"But you have no choice…"

Scorpius felt his mind slipping away from him. The roast beef roiled in his stomach but he fought in invasion just the same.

"Oh, so we're being difficult, are we?" the voice hissed, amused.

_You can't keep doing this._

"Oh, but I can," came the voice. "I can do this forever…"

The laugh that came from Scorpius' lips were dark and luscious, but not his own.

_NO! _He pushed his mind back to the forefront. Beads of sweat began to form on his brow.

The laugh came again, but retreated. She was very fond of teasing.

"What about your half-blood wench?" the voice hissed again, low and cruel. "Still in love with her, are you?"

Scorpius didn't dare answer. He couldn't hide it.

"Scared are we?" said the voice. It became lower, more intimate. Scorpius shuddered as if a tongue began to flicker over his ear. "Good. I need you scared. You taste so good when you're scared." The voice cackled. As plain as day, Scorpius felt an invisible fingernail drag along his jaw. He looked full-on into the mirror. Indeed, there was nothing there.

"Soon, there will be nothing to fear. I will make sure of that."

_That scares me more, _he thought. Scorpius heard her laugh.

"Right as you should be then. Come…" the invisible nails traveled along his arm. "Come to me."

"No," Scorpius said, finally finding his voice. "Professor Longbottom trusts me. I can't- He wouldn't let me-"

The invisible nails dug into his skin harder, breaking the skin. "I am your master! Remember that!" the hiss came violently.

With that, Scorpius felt himself dissolve away. Viedemal was winning.

--------------------

Neville looked at the clock. It was almost 11 o'clock. How long did it take to wash and get ready for bed, anyway?

Putting the last of the roast away in the icebox, he went down the hall and stopped at the small bathroom.

"Scorpius?" he called through the door. No answer except for harsh breathing. "Scorpius, are you alright?" He paused. "Scorpius!"

------------------

_Please, don't do this!_ Scorpius begged, gripping the sink. Professor Longbottom began pounding on the door. Fear was evident in his voice.

"I shall do as I please. And you will help me."

_No! Please!_

_--------------------_

Neville withdrew his wand and an old, fake galleon. His hands shook as he heard Scorpius' pained whimpering on the other side of the door. As soon as he changed the lettering on the galleon, he hoped that Harry had his in his pocket as he said he would. Hopefully, there would be time.

"Scorpius! Open up! Scorpius!" The galleon grew hot in his hand.

Neville rose his wand to the door, ready to unlock it or blow it to pieces, but it soon became unnecessary as the door flew open with a bang. Neville fell to the ground from the force of it, staring up at Scorpius' tear-tracked face.

The expression on Scorpius' face, however, showed no sign of any emotion involved with crying. It looked- triumphant.

The eyes glowed scarlet.

Before Neville could go for his wand, Scorpius cried out in a hissing, feminine voice "_STUPIFY!"_ leaving Neville to collapse fully on the ground.

"I'm sorry, Professor," came Scorpius' voice, pained and shaky.

"C'mon!" said the feminine counterpart, switching and taking over as easily as if Scorpius' body came with a switch.

Scorpius staved off Viedemal's control long enough to take a longing glance at his unconscious professor before giving in and disappearing into the darkness.


	28. Into the Forest

Thankfully, it was dark. The cloak was thick around her shoulders, but it protected her from the evening frost.

It was late, but then, what did it matter to Rosie if it meant that she could see Scorpius; even if he couldn't see her?

Creeping around to the small cottage near the greenhouses, she could hear Professor Longbottom talking. Feeling brave a curious, she peered into the window, watching Scorpius blink slowly and nodding off, as if about to fall asleep into his desert.

The image made her giggle, despite how drawn Scorpius obviously looked. The idea of Scorpius, her Slytherin, her lover, nodding off like a 1st year, seemed unbearably cute. Part of her almost expected to see fluffy pajamas, a teddy bear and some thumb sucking; but her cheeks flushed at the thought.

Leaning against the wall, she gazed on she watched Longbottom shooing Scorpius down the hall, cleaning up the evening's dishes. Glancing over to the clock on the wall, she noted that 10:30 was too late to be out and about, even for a 6th year, but reasoned that going back in now would mean that she would definitely get caught. Best, she would decide, to stay out here. At least for a little while.

And so for the next half hour, Rosie stood by and imaged life with Scorpius once he was well again. She imagined a life without parents, without expectations. Perhaps they could live in the country, riding horseback around the fields. Or in London- she could pursue her career in Muggle Relations there. She thought of Scorpius trying to operate a television and a remote control, and didn't bother to stop her laughing, although she kept it quiet.

She knew they were just dreams- perhaps they would never come true- but those thoughts kept her warm. The one thing she couldn't bring herself to imagine, though, was the idea of children. The thought excited her and terrified her all at the same time.

Going back to Scorpius living as a muggle, she settled with imagining his trying to operate vacuum cleaners and toaster ovens. It wasn't until she saw Neville looking up from his stack of dishes did she realize how late it was getting. Surely, how long had Scorpius been in the washroom, getting ready for bed? Half an hour?

The professor, a look of concern written across his face, went down the hall. She could hear his muffled voice, quietly at first, and then yelling in panic.

Rosie drew her wand and clenched it in her hot fist. Her breath lingered on the window. Did she dare to go in?

Neville's voice drew louder, then there was a bang. Bits and pieces of wood flew from the hallway, hitting Rosie's window and causing her to flinch away, as if they could get through the glass. She heard a sharp, female voice crying out 'stupefy.'

Rosie fell out of sight when she saw Scorpius came into the sitting room, heading out the door. As soon as Scorpius was outside, she felt the locket against her skin prickle, as if it were waking up. She thought of calling out to him, making him explain what just happened, but then she noticed how Scorpius was moving. He was taking great, purposeful strides, much unlike his current methods of a slow, careful pace; as if he didn't want to further upset his delicate state. Even when he was completely healthy, he always kept a serenely commanding stride, calculating and never rushed. There was only one way to describe his current walk and posture: determination.

Keeping her distance and glad for the lack of snow, Rosie crept along the shadows. If it ever crossed her mind to go check on Professor Longbottom, she showed no guilt in not doing so. She followed Scorpius over the grounds, and it wasn't until they reached Hagrid's hut did she realize that he was heading directly for the Forbidden Forest.

Rosie stopped dead in her tracks. The Forbidden Forest was frightening to her in broad day-light. But in the evening? So close to midnight?

Maybe she should send sparks or wake up Hagrid. She was in over her head on his one. What sort of monsters lurked in there?

But the thought of Scorpius, in there, alone, was enough to push her forward. Scorpius was going in, still sick. If he collapsed or became ill and she had not been there to rescue him, how would she be able to live with herself?

The decision was made. She was going in.

Scorpius did not make it easy on her. The dark seemed to be his element. He did not light his wand and Rosie did not dare to light hers. The full moon provided a little help, but as the forest grew denser, so did the darkness.

They trudged on.

More than once, Rosie was regretting her decision. Scorpius, for all intents and purposes, seemed fine. Maybe she just imagined the scene in Neville's cottage. Scorpius didn't seem ill at all, just unnaturally focused. Maybe his illness and removal from the other students was just an act- a way to get rid of her.

She felt a surge of anger; first at Scorpius and then at herself for thinking anyone would ever spend that much time in hospital, just to get rid of a love-sick girlfriend.

This distracting argument quickly vanished as they came upon a clearing. How long had they been walking? How far? For the moment, it really didn't matter.

Scorpius went to the center of the clearing and bent down. He dug through a pile of leafs with his bare hands, searching for something.

The locket stirred against Rosie's chest, her breath coming out hot and fast. There was something about this that felt wrong, very wrong.

She ran up, feeling her heart pounding off-beat with the locket.

Scorpius looked up as Rosie was almost on top of him and he let out a squeak of surprise. His hand was poised over a half-exposed tin bucket.

"Scorpius-" Rosie cried as she lost her balance and fell forward. He tried to catch her, landing them both on the bucket at the same time.

Feeling a tugging sensation behind her belly-button, they spun out of the forest.


	29. The Vow

**AN: **You all have been so patient. Life as been kicking my ass, so I'm not updating as much as I'd like, so please bear with me.

I know, I know, another "cliffy" but it does give some vital information.

--------------------

"OPEN UP, MALFOY!" Harry bellowed.

Out of frustration, Harry picked up his fallen wand, preparing to blast the house down. There was so little time. Something needled in the back of his mind that the window of opportunity was closing. Draco had the answers, and Harry needed them.

He shot a curse at the Manor, watching as an unseen barrier absorbed it. He shot a stronger curse, making a spectacular bang, but nothing else.

Seething, Harry pulled up the sleeves of his robes. He had been at this for hours. Normally, this sort of exercise would give him time to reign in his temper, but he wasn't in the mood for these games. Not to mention that protection charms tended to grow stronger during the night. The more time Harry spent trying to disarm them, the less likely it would be that he would succeed in breaking through them.

Reaching into the back of his mind, he went back to his days of Auror training, recalling his sessions with Shacklebolt. His pronunciation was shaky, but an old African curse was strong enough to wear a small hole through the ward. He tried the same curse twice more before the barrier adjusted itself, stopping the curse before it could go through completely. The only benefit was that it was unable to repair the damage that had already been done.

Harry felt a predatory grin spread over his face. Maybe he was in the mood for games after all.

Changing his tactic, he tried a few of Bill Weasley's Egyptian curses- particularly the strong ones that had been used to counter wards on high-security tombs and pyramids. Then French, Russian, and finally an old nasty one from Viktor Krum broke through. He sent up a silent thanks that Draco Malfoy had never attended Durmstrang.

Approaching the door, Harry wasted no time. He did not just knock on the door, he pounded into it with his entire forearm.

"OPEN UP, MALFOY!" he bellowed again. The door was resolutely shut. A simple unlocking spell did nothing. Not that Harry expected it to be that easy. "DON'T THINK I WON'T PUT YOU UNDER ARREST, MALFOY!" He tried another unlocking spell. The handle jiggled, but didn't budge. "FOR WITHOLDING INFORMATION! ABUSE OF A MINOR! ABSTRUCTION OF JUSTICE! FOR-"

The door unlocked. Kreul, Draco's vindictive-looking house-elf answered. "Master is most displeased-" he sneered, "Master enjoys his peace and-"

Harry ignored him completely, storming into the Manor. "DRACO!" he yelled, lifting his head so he could be heard through the staircase. "DRACO! GET DOWN HERE NOW!"

He stood in the middle of the room, wand poised. Touching it to his throat, Harry muttered an incantation, launching his voice into a big, booming sound. "_**DRACO!**_"

"That will be quite enough!" Harry heard as he was knocked to the ground. He scrambled to his feet as he turned around, facing the pale face of Draco Malfoy. "This had better be good, Potter."

"Oh, it is, Malfoy. It is," Harry said with contempt. "It's about your son-"

Draco straightened his chin. "Really now? Causing trouble is he? Supplying Dung Bombs to Peeves again? Flooding the stairwells with love potion? Hardly the work of an Auror to sort out such trivial matters, but rest assured that now the great Potter has informed me, I'll be sure to put a stop to it. Have a nice day."

"Not so fast!" Harry shut the door that Draco was walking through before he could leave. "Have you been completely ignoring the messages Dobrinski's been sending or are you just that thick?"

Draco shot him a look. "Any correspondence that I have with the headmistress is private, Potter. My son is fine. That is the end of our discussion."

"Tell me about the Unbreakable Vow, Malfoy," Harry practically growled, his voice growing dark. Draco stopped cold.

"What _Vow_, Potter?"

Harry's eyes narrowed. "_The _vow. And on that note, who is Viedemal and why is Scorpius married to her?"

Draco's eyes widened. "How did you-"

"Never mind how I know," Harry spat. An armchair came soaring out of the study, scooping Draco off his feet and landing him directly in front of Harry, who planted his hands on both armrests and leaned in. Draco, suddenly looking slightly panicked, stayed where he was put. "You will tell me everything- about the Vow, Viedemal, the locket-" Draco looked a twinge confused. "She's sucking out the magic out of him on your permission, and I want to know why and how."

"Tell me how you know all this, Potter!" Draco said. His grey eyes tried to remain steady and focused, but he was caught off guard.

Harry ignored the demand. "For the past three months, your son has been in the infirmary more times than he has been in class. He's growing sicker and sicker and no one knows why. He's been disappearing off of school grounds. No one knows how." Harry leaned in further, his voice almost a whisper. There was a pause. "Don't think I won't use Veritaserum to get the answers I want!"

"You can't do that!" Draco hissed. "It's illegal! You'll lose your job and you know it!"

Harry gave a bitter, humorless laugh. "Do you honestly think I need the money, Malfoy? Between the money I inherited from my parents, Sirius and the investment profits from the Weasley's joke shop, I've never needed to work for the money. All I've ever wanted out of life is get rid of the evils of the world and right now you're at the top of my list. And I will do what I need to do to end this and if we don't stop this soon, he'll die."

"N-no!" Draco said. "I was promised that he would be fine." His eyes darted around, not meeting Harry's. "I was told he would be fine as long as we went willingly!"

"Well whoever made that promise lied. A few years older, and he might survive this as a disabled squib. But at sixteen, he'll be lucky to get out of this alive. When did you make this Vow to Viedemal?"

"I didn't make the Vow to Viedemal! Put that down!" Draco said, holding up his arm to defend himself as Harry drew his wand. "But it doesn't matter, anyway! No matter who I made it to, if I don't fulfill it, then I'll die! Either by magic or by her!"

Harry did not use wand. The punch, however, nearly broke Draco's jaw. "So that's it then!" Harry yelled. "What good is your son's life if you have a shaky promise and if you're allowed to live? You're just as much of the filthy, spineless coward that you always were; hiding behind your son-of-a-bitch father-"

"I'm not a coward!"

"You should have been rotting away in Azkaban with him!"

"Shut up!"

"Seedy! Worthless-"

"STOP IT!"

"WHO DID YOU MAKE THE VOW TO, MALFOY!"

"VOLDEMORT!"

The room went silent. Harry jerked away from the armchair as if it burned. "Voldemort?" he said quietly.

Draco bent forward, resting his elbows on his knees, burying his face in his hands. "Yes," he whispered. "Voldemort."

----------------------

**AN:** Given some of the responses I've gotten for this chapter, as far as I know, Rowling has never said that the person asking the bond has to still be alive. For example, in HBP, if Narcissa died before Snape carried out his promise, we still don't know if Snape would have been bound to keep the Vow. That bit of knowledge was never shared with us, but this is my universe, so I'm answering the question.

Depending on the strength of the person requesting the Vow and the weight of the Vow itself, the Vow can outlast them. Of course, the determining factor on a Vow is dependant on the witch/wizard who is magically required to fulfill it. As Draco will explain later (I'm playing nice since I'm not updating very quickly) the Vow he made to Voldemort is only lifted when one of three things happen:

A: The Vow is completed in full.

B: Draco voluntarily refuses to fulfill the Vow (but he will immediately die)

C: Draco is completely unable to fulfill the Vow (such as his own death)

I think that's pretty clear, but let me know if it doesn't make sense.

And if it turns out that Rowling did say "well, the Vow is voided when so-and-so dies", then well... too bad. Apparently Neville is married and boinking Hannah Abbot and living above the Leaky Cauldron, but that's obviously not happening here.


	30. In Trouble

AN: I know, it's been insanely long since I've updated, but life is still kicking my ass. I'm working 2 full time jobs and getting almost no sleep, so please bear with me.

----------------------------

Rosie fell unceremoniously to the ground, feeling a rib crack. A groan barely passed over her lips before she heard a high-feminine voice rise over the dim.

"What do we have here?"

Rosie looked up to find a witch standing over her. She was beautiful, but in a very cold way. The locket around her neck began to throb.

"A present-" the witch said, nudging Rosie's cheek with her toe "-I never asked my lovely husband to give me anything but his powers, but treats are always nice."

"Husband?" Rosie croaked out. The only male in the room was Scorpius.

The witch chuckled. The tone was mildly unsettling. "You must be the half-blood that's been distracting him. How very sweet of him to bring you to me. Proof of loyalty." From a few feet away, Scorpius groaned. "Perhaps we should wake him," the witch said, nodding towards Scorpius. "I would like him to see this."

"You're Viedemal," Rosie said quietly. "But you can't be married! Scorpius is too young!"

"You're clever," Viedemal hissed. "Which is a pity that I can't have you when once I gain power. The daughter and niece of famous Aurors would be very vexing and more hassle than you're worth." Viedemal flicked her tongue over her teeth. "But the powers you must have… even if you are half-blood…" She looked Rosie up and down. "But as bait- as bait… he'd have to come. The fool will risk anything to save the people he _loves_." A disdainful sneer lit across her face at the word.

Rosie looked up at Viedemal, finding it hard to breathe. She felt lost, confused. Viedemal made no sense whatsoever.

Viedemal bent over Scorpius' form, lifting him by the arm with a jerky movement. He followed, stumbling. Drawing him up to her chest, Viedemal kissed him, pulling out a string of magic from his mouth that left him limp. Rosie heard him groan a mumbled 'no' in protest, watching him sway.

Turning Scorpius so his back was against her chest so he could see Rosie, Viedemal raised her wand, pointing it at Rosie's crumpled form.

"Crucio!"

-------------------------------

Harry felt as if the wind had been knocked out of him. There was Draco, shaking in his armchair, head in his hands. "Voldemort?"

"YES!" Draco bellowed, taking his hands away from his face. "VOLDEMORT! THE DARK LORD! VOLDEMORT!"

"But Voldemort is dead!"

"Of course he's dead! You killed him! We all saw it happen, remember?"

"But how can you still be held to an unbreakable vow when-"

"Damn muggles!" Draco muttered hotly. "Some spells are not stopped by death! When I made the vow to Voldemort, it was meant to be fulfilled by Viedemal through me. The only way that it can be stopped prematurely is if Viedemal, Scorpius and I die! He was powerful enough, Potter, to do anything he wanted, and that included sentencing my family to die!" Draco took deep breaths, his voice edging on panic. "Viedemal has the power to stop this without killing us but why would she want to? Once she has the Malfoy backing and my son's powers, she'll be unstoppable! "

"Then kill her!" Harry bellowed. "Or kill yourself!" He threw his arms in the air. "Surely no one told you that becoming a father meant making sacrifices? Your son is dying and all you're concerned about is your own hide! If it was the choice between my life and my children's or Ginny's then I wouldn't think twice! Hell, I'd even cast the damn spell myself!"

"Well that's rich, Potter, since we both know that a wand won't destroy its own master without switching loyalties first. Besides, this is very complex magic!" Draco laughed humorlessly. "You think that this spell is weak enough to be derailed by suicide?" He took a few heaving breaths. "The Dark Lord's blood runs through her as well as aunt Bella's-"

"Bella's? You don't mean-"

"-and the bond is made with his loop. It's more volatile than regular unbreakable bonds but it enough power on its own to make her the most powerful witch since the days of Merlin! The vow is strong enough destroy us both if someone got in the way! That's why I had to separate them! That's why I had to force Scorpius into the marriage as soon as possible! If he had left with the Weasley girl, it would have been our death sentence! Besides- Scorpius is married to Viedemal now! And if he dies and I die, she becomes the sole heir to my estate! She will have limitless funds and backing in her name along with infinite power! Do you want that, Potter?"

Harry had no time to reply. There was a gentle burning in his trouser pocket. Keeping his wand pointed at Draco, he fumbled for the coin with his freehand. He withdrew it, examining the numbers around the edge.

"Here!" Harry said, shoving the coin in Draco's face. "Do you know what this is? This is the galleon I used to schedule DA meetings in my 5th year. Neville Longbottom still has his with him on the instruction to contact me if anything happens to Scorpius while he's at school." He looked at the coin, feeling it burning hotter in his hand. "He's in danger, Draco. Right now." Harry lifted his wand to Draco's face, so close that Draco went cross-eyed to keep the tip in sight. "If you're not willing to help me, then I will kill you right now and go looking for Viedemal myself and end this- Vow or no." Harry pressed the wand to Draco's forehead. Draco scowled but did not dare to argue. "Or you can, for once, do the noble thing and show me where to she's taking him. I care about Scorpius' survival, even if you don't. Now tell me! Where is Viedemal? What is there left of the vow to fulfill?"

In his time as an Auror, Harry had to admit that there had been times that he had killed other men. So had Ron, and on the examination of old records, so had his mother. In the line of duty, one had to be prepared to make such sacrifices. Kinsley had warned him that it was a possibility, but when it actually happened, it crippled Harry to the point where he almost quit. It wasn't until Mr. Weasley had reminded him that by killing one guilty man, he had saved nearly 300 innocent lives (that and Ginny had shaken him stupid) did Harry agree to stay on with the ministry.

He did not enjoy it, but on occasion, it was necessary. And some people truly did deserve death. By law, Draco might not be one of those men, but if someone was willing to turn their child into the hands of someone like Viedemal, then Harry could not be accountable for his actions.

"What is your decision, Malfoy?" Harry spat, his voice low and dangerous.

Draco's eyes left Harry's wand and focused on Harry directly. His brow furrowed. It was apparent that he was mulling over his options.

Something clicked in him like a switch. Knocking Harry's wand out of his way, Draco got up. Harry stumbled back as he watched Draco go to the closet to fetch a cloak. He tossed one to Harry, who caught it deftly, albeit confused.

"We have a bit of a walk ahead of us. Where we're going is not accessible by Apparation."

Harry fingered the cloak. Before he could question the motives behind such a strange turn of will, Draco approached him.

Harry flung on the cloak, haphazardly fastening on the collar before Draco grabbed a hold of his arm.

Within an instant, they Disapparated.


	31. Someone dies

The locket burned hotly on Rosie's chest as she screamed.

"Please! Stop it!" Scorpius begged, trying to twist out of Viedemal's grip. "Let her go!"

"Lesson one, Scorpius!" Viedemal said as Rosie laid gasping on the ground. "Make no friends! Crucio!"

"Stop! You're hurting her!" Rosie began to clutch her chest.

"Lesson two! Anyone who is not serving you-" Rosie's spine began to curl upwards. "-is against you! Crucio!"

"I'll give you whatever you want! I have gold!"

"Lesson three! Never trust a promise!"

Viedemal's grip on Scorpius tightened. Writhing under her grip, she brought a hand to his throat, restricting the airflow. He gasped for a moment, the room beginning to fade into grey as another voice, deep and masculine, bit through Rosie's screams. The room as suddenly bathed in a flash of light as Viedemal stopped the torture long enough to cast a mysterious spell over the room. Viedemal's grip loosened just enough to give Scorpius some air.

Rosie bucked up, screaming. Smoke began to rise from her chest.

"ROSIE! PLEASE! STOP!"

Viedemal fumbled her hand over Scorpius' mouth as she sent the next wave of the curse. "WATCH HER! SEE WHAT YOUR FOOLISH LOVE HAS DONE TO HER? CRUCIO!"

Scorpius grimaced as Rosie jerked on the ground. A muffled groan escaped his lips. He struggled in Veidemal's grasp, but he was too weak to fight her. She sent another curse through Rosie, and before Scorpius could think; be fore he could even take in a breath, he did the one thing he could do.

Scorpius opened his mouth and bit down as hard as he could.

Letting out an angry howl, Viedemal released Scorpius. He almost toppled over, but managed to keep his balance. Turning to face her, he stood between Viedemal and Rosie.

Viedemal, hair in disarray, eyes flaring red, raised her wand. "OUT OF THE WAY, SCORPIUS! SHE CAN NOT LIVE! YOU'RE TOO ATTACHED AND SHE WILLRUIN EVERYTHING!" She moved to the side, only to be side-stepped by Scorpius. "THIS IS NOT A GAME, BOY!" Her eyes started to flash scarlet. "IF YOU DO NOT MOVE, I _WILL_ KILL YOU!"

Viedemal tried again to walk around him, only to have him grab her by the arm. His grip was white-knuckle tight as he pointed her wand to his own chest. "Then kill me," he said. His voice shook, but his eyes and his hands were unnaturally steady.

Viedemal paused only a moment, darting her eyes towards the door before she looked back to Scorpius, her eyes flaring to white-hot. She knocked Scorpius down in one move, pointed her wand straight at Rosie's heart and bellowed "AVADA KEDARVA!"

-------------------------

Harry Apparated alongside Draco on a grassy knoll in the middle of an unfamiliar landscape. Draco brushed the dirt off of his traveling cloak and began to sprint up the hillside. Taking in his surroundings, Harry jogged forward to keep pace.

"Is this your sick version of a joke, Malfoy?"

"This is Albania," Draco called over his shoulder. "If you want to save my son, then you'd do best to keep up!"

Cursing under his breath, Harry followed, keeping his eyes and ears open. "Why, in all places in the world, is Scorpius in _Albania_?"

"I told you that I made the Vow to Voldemort! Use your head, Potter!"

Harry paused, realization dawning on him. "Draco! Are you telling me that Voldemort had a child? With Bellatrix LeStrange?" They rounded the hill, a small cottage coming within view. "And Scorpius is married to her?"

"That would be Viedemal, yes." Draco stopped talking, sprinting towards the cottage. Harry rushed to keep up, but the weight of traveling cloak that Draco had lent him seemed to be increasing.

"What exactly did you promise Voldemort, Malfoy?" Harry panted, finally reaching the front of the cottage where Draco was waiting with an oddly reminiscent look of Lucius.

"What else would he want, Potter?" Draco said, swinging open the door. He gripped Harry by the shoulders and shoved him in. "You."

------------------------

"NO!" Scorpius cried. The flash of green faded as Rosie's body remained limp. "ROSIE!" He flung himself over her body, tears blurring his vision. "WAKE UP, ROSIE! WAKE UP!"

Viedemal's evil cackle broke through the rush of noise racing past his ears. Swallowing thickly, Scorpius shot a look up to her. "You killed her! YOU KILLED HER!"

"Yes, indeed," Viedemal answered calmly. She twirled her wand in her hand casually. "Very observant. Although that isn't the reason why I like you so much, now is it?"

Scorpius' eyes widened as Viedemal's eyes grew dark. "You bitch," he said quietly. Dangerously. Drawing up all his strength, he stood up. "You killed her!" He drew out his wand. "CRU-"

"CRUCIO!" Viedemal bellowed, watching as Scorpius fell to the ground, screaming. His wand fell to the ground as his finger nails curled into the palms of his hands. "THIS IS WHY YOU SHOULD NEVER LOVE, SCORPIUS!" She advanced on him as he continued to scream. "YOU KILLED HER! NOT ME! IT'S YOUR FAULT SHE'S DEAD! I HOPE YOU'RE HAPPY!"

She lifted the curse, watching as his frail body twitched with the resulting shocks. A vein pulsed visibly in Scorpius' temple as she stood over him, pointing her wand at him. In an instant, he felt incredible heat curling along his spine as he arched upwards. A thick stream of magic swirled out of his mouth which Viedemal hungrily sucked up.

"See what you're making me do, Scorpius?" Viedemal purred. "Don't you see that it's over? Why I must end this now?"

Scorpius felt his lungs begin to cave with the weight of his breathing. His eyes began to fade as a flash of purple filled the room. "Kill me," he said weakly.

---------------------------

Harry fell forward, feeling the cloak doubling weight. He struggled to remove it as Draco stepped through the door, picking up Harry by the collar as if he were weightless.

"You want to know what I promised Voldemort's daughter? I promised that I would help her rise to power! What better way for her to take over her father's work than by letting her destroy the great Harry Potter?"

Harry tossed and turned in Draco's grip, slowly untangling himself from the cloak. "Is that what this was all about? Destroying me?"

"I guess you could say that!" Draco said. He dropped Harry to the ground, causing stars to dance in front of his eyes. The cloak doubled in weight again; he could feel the fabric heat up, sapping his strength.

"You are willingly sacrificing your son just to get to me?" Harry spat, twisting one final time until he was completely free from the cloak. With the last of his strength, he kicked it aside and laid on the ground, feeling a rush of blood tingling back into his limbs. His ears perked up, hearing screams just beyond the other side of the door.

"I didn't have a choice! You don't know the power the Dark Lord had! I didn't think she'd hurt him this much!" Draco's voice shook. Harry tried to sit up properly, feeling strength coming back into his body, but Draco planted a foot onto his chest, keeping him down. "But now- now she has you! _You_ can be the one she saps magic from! _You_ can be rendered a helpless squib! _You_ can giver her secrets to the British Magical Ministry that even _I_ can't access!" Draco withdrew his wand with an evil look in his eye. "_Imperio_!"

Harry felt a guiding hand lifting him up under Draco's will. Harry struggled to resist, but the cloak- whatever it was- had left him weak. The screams grew louder beyond the door as they approached it. A sharp pang in the base of Harry's spine, telling him that the effects were almost gone. It took all of Harry's self-control not to break the curse now and barge in, biding his time.

"I can't tell you what this means to me, Potter," Draco said with a cruel air. "I think I'll pay for the flowers at your funeral. Lilies would be a nice touch, I think."

Harry gritted his teeth, allowing himself to be guided through the door just as he heard a cry of 'CRUCIO!'

What Harry saw caused him to break the curse almost subconsciously. "ROSE!" he cried, knocking Draco to the ground. The woman grasping a pale, trembling Scorpius by the neck snapped her head in his direction, removing the curse on Rosie long enough to send up a protective bubble around herself, Scorpius, and Rosie's crumpled form. Harry run headlong into the invisible wall, the force of it sending him several feet. "HOLD ON, KIDS!" he bellowed, sending three counter curses in a row that merely bounced off the force field.

'WATCH HER! SEE WHAT YOUR FOOLISH LOVE HAS DONE TO HER?' he heard, then the renewal of screams pierced his ears.

"MALFOY!" he yelled, turning suddenly and pining Draco to the wall. "LET ME THROUGH! SHE HAS ROSE!"

Draco snarled. "Good. That little brat has caused enough trouble. It's time that little half-blood faced the consequences!"

Harry withdrew only enough to give Draco a terrific punch in the nose, sending them sprawling to the ground. He rose his fist for another punch when he heard something that made him cringe.

'THIS IS NOT A GAME, BOY! IF YOU DO NOT MOVE, I _WILL_ KILL YOU!'

Harry hauled Draco to his feet, grabbing him by the arms and thrusting him toward the edge of the shield. "YOU HEAR THAT, MALFOY? HE'S THE ONLY BOY IN THERE! IF YOU VALUE YOUR SON'S LIFE, NOW IS THE TIME!" Harry's voice broke, angry tears spilling out. Draco hesitated, causing Harry to shake his shoulders so hard that it felt as if his teeth were rattling out of his skull. "PLEASE, DRACO!"

A cry of Avada Kedarva broke through the air and Harry released Draco, lunging at the shield with all of his strength. "ROSE! SCORPIUS!"

As Draco pulled him away from the shield, Harry clawed at him, struggling back to the shield. "POTTER! STOP! LISTEN! YOU MUST LISTEN!" Through the rage, terror and helpless fear, Harry paused only long enough to feel a small vial being shoved into his pocket. "WHATEVER HAPPENS, BE SURE THAT SCORPIUS GETS THIS!"

With that, he pushed Harry to the ground, allowing himself a clear field of the protective shield. Drawing out his wand, a purple stream shot forth, breaking apart the force field.

Draco's body fell to the ground, a gurgling sound emitting from his throat as his body gave a final twitch and ceased all movement.

Before he could comprehend Draco's sacrifice, he watched from the floor as Viedemal pointed her wand at Scorpius.

Jumping over Draco's body, Harry went into the fray.

--------------------------

Viedemal lifted her wand, black hair draped over one eye as the other glinted. A cruel smile spread over her face. "Then I guess playtime is over, Scorpius! It's been fun! AVADA KEDARVA!"

Green light filled the cave, but the pain didn't come. Looking up, Scorpius saw that Viedemal's curse was hitting a golden shield.

Viedemal let out a fearsome screech, her face reddening in anger.

"GO! GET OUT OF HERE!" Harry bellowed. He kept his stance against Viedemal, but the shield began to wane.

"WHAT ABOUT YOU?" Scorpius yelled. The curse loomed closer.

"GO!" Harry repeated. "GET ROSE OUT OF HERE! THERE'S NOT MUCH TIME!"

Scorpius nodded, grabbing onto Rosie's body as he Summoned the bucket .

As Scorpius' hand connected with the rusted tin, he looked back just in time to see Harry collapse to the ground.

---------------------

AN: Since it's Christmas, I'll be nice and tell you that yes, Rosie did surive. Detailed explaination in next chapter. Bear with me, life is still kicking my ass.


	32. An Explanation

Harry was just finishing his pumpkin juice when he heard a knock at the door of the infirmary. Then there was a pounding.

"I'm coming, I'm coming!" the head medi-witch huffed, bustling towards the door as the knocking became more insistent. "Barely eight o'clock and already pounding on my door. I never-"

However, her sentence went unfinished. As soon as the door was unlatched, it swung open so fast that the medi-witch almost fell backwards by the force of it. From the door, brown eyes burned a hole right into Harry's head.

"Ginny!" Harry choked. He forced himself to smile, but he had been married long enough to know that look. Also, the way she was clutching her wand was not encouraging. "Honey?"

Ginny's expression grew darker, as did the room, despite the sunny morning.

"Lambchop?" Harry winced. That did not come out dignified or manly at all.

Ginny began to scowl. A distinct chill raced up Harry's spine. He felt his voice tighten pathetically.

"Sugar-noodle?" Damn, that came out as a frightened whimper.

"HARRY JAMES POTTER! DON'T YOU _DARE_ TRY TO SWEET-TALK ME!" Ginny rounded on him with their children closely in tow, pointing her wand directly between his eyes, so that Harry had to look crossways in order to see the tip. "_Chiroptera naris_!"

Harry made a grab at his nose, but it was already to late. He gave a yowl of pain as dozens, then hundreds of tiny bats flew out of his nostrils.

"THERE, ALBUS!" Ginny said, biting her every word as Harry tried to squash the little buggers that were making a go with his glasses. "That_- that_- is your mother's infamous bat bogey hex!"

Harry finally rescued his glasses from the bogey-bats, snorting out the stranglers as his son started jotting down the spell. "Now, honey-" he started, flicking away some of the more stubborn bats. "I thought we agreed not to teach them that hex!"

"And I thought I made it perfectly clear that you are a git and an idiot for getting your big, fat, maddeningly overly-heroic arse into every single little problem without telling anyone what you are doing! Honestly- I ought to-"

"Now wait a minute! I had a good reason for-"

Just then, Hermione and Ron came bursting through the door with Hugo dragging behind, nearly barreling over the medi-witch again, who looked about ready to send a couple of nasty curses herself. Hermione gasped, running past the Potters and went straight to Rosie's bed.

"We just got the owl! Oh Rose! She'll be ok? She will? Won't she?"

The medi-witch brushed herself off and waddled over. She looked greatly annoyed, but straightened herself out as Hermione looked up at her pleadingly.

"Miss Weasley is alive. She sustained some injuries and we're not sure if she will fully recover yet. We have her under a sedation spell until we know how stable she is. We need to transfer her over to St. Mungo's, but we'll need your permission-" From there, the medi-witch's voice lowered as Hermione listened attentively to every word. She glanced over her shoulder as the medi-witch droned on, tears spilling down her cheeks.

Ron sighed and shot Harry a meaningful look before going to Rosie's bed to listen in. Hugo just stood there, dumbfounded.

Ginny cleared her throat. "Uh, Hugo. Why don't you go see your sister?" she prompted in a reassuring voice.

Hugo turned his head and looked at his aunt in a blank, bewildered expression. Looking back to Rosie, his mother was clinging onto his father, blubbering as Rosie laid unconscious on the bed. Ron held onto Hermione tightly, rocking her as he fought his own tears.

"Oh for Merlin's sake!" came Lily's haughty voice. She stood on her tip-toes and grasped Hugo by the shoulders, giving him a shove towards the rest of his family. "Go hug your mum!"

Hugo nodded stupidly, stumbling over his own feet as he made his way over to Rosie's bed. As soon as he came within reach, Hermione pulled him into her arms and began a fresh wave of crying, almost knocking her son off of his feet.

Ginny sat down on Harry's bed, completely ignoring the fact that she was sitting on her husband's leg. "What happened?" Ginny said, so quietly that only the rest of the Potters could hear her.

"She was tortured and cursed," Harry replied in a quiet voice, not bothering to move his leg away. "She was wearing this." Reaching to the bedside table, he grabbed the locket that Scorpius had given Rosie and tossed it on the bedcovers. Or at least, what was left of it. "Ginny- I think it's a horcrux."

"What's a horcrux?" James said. All of the Potters' eyes turned to him. Lily and Albus seemed just as confused. Harry and Ginny glanced between themselves.

"Go see your aunt Hermione."

Albus looked between his brother and sister. "No, dad," he said, taking a deep breath. "We deserve to know what's going on."

Ginny leveled her youngest son with a glance. "Don't you _dare_ talk to your father in such a way! I swear I'll-"

"No!" Harry shouted. The Potters looked over at the Weasleys, but Harry's outburst went unnoticed. "Sit down, Al," Harry finally said. "You two as well. It's about time you heard this."

James and Lily obeyed immediately, wide-eyed and alarmed. Albus stared at his father defiantly, but curiosity won out. Albus plopped himself down on the bed, crossing his arms expectantly.

"Right," Harry said. He took a deep breath and nodded himself forward. "Many years ago, a woman from a very unstable line of wizardry came to a city orphanage. She was cold, abandoned by her muggle husband who she had bewitched to love her and her only family was in Azkaban or dead. She was about to give birth to a child and died soon after. Before she passed on, she asked for that baby to be named Tom Marvolo Riddle, after her husband and her father."

Ginny blanched, but Harry pressed on.

"As time went on, Tom Riddle grew up in the orphanage with no memory of his mother and no knowledge of his past. And since the orphanage was muggle, he had no idea that he was a wizard until one day when he was paid a visit by Albus Dumbledore."

Harry looked to Albus, who dropped his arms.

"Professor Dumbledore told him all about Hogwarts, about being a wizard. Tom, of course, was excited to know this, but during his excitement, he revealed a few things about himself that he didn't mean to. He admitted to playing cruel jokes, petty theft and being a loner. As time wore on, he became very popular and charming, but he quickly learned his heritage and became obsessed with power. It wasn't long before he hunted down his father, killed him and his grandparents and shunned his muggle name, re-invented himself as 'Lord Voldemort' and created what is known as a horcrux."

Harry lifted the damaged locket, feeling the texture of the metal. "A horcrux is a very power piece of dark magic. Until Voldemort came along, it had not been used for centuries, and you'd have to be bloody mad to even consider it. Once you commit an act so evil- such as cold-blooded murder, your soul splits. From that point, he was about to put his split soul into an object, such as a piece of jewelry, a cup, or-"

"A diary," Ginny finished, looking down at her lap.

Harry nodded. "A horcrux ensures that a part of your soul will live past your body. And if anyone should interact with it too much, it will consume them and the horcrux will resurrect its master. But creating a horcrux leaves your soul damaged and broken. Unstable. Once is too risky for anyone, no matter how great the temptation. Voldemort did this not once, but several times. He was so afraid of death that he kept shattering his soul until it was as fragile as an egg shell."

Harry looked to his family, who were completely enraptured by his talk. "As time wore on, his name became more an more feared. He amassed a large following of dark witches and wizards, but he was paranoid about losing that power. Then- one of his spies overheard a conv- a proph-"

He paused, taking a deep breath. "His spy overheard a prophecy, saying that a baby would be born that would destroy him. He panicked. In short, by the description of the prophecy, that narrowed it down to two babies. Myself and Neville Longbottom."

"WHOA! WAIT!" James said, holding up his hand. "Are you telling me that it could have been Professor Longbottom who would have-"

"Yes," Harry said with a nod. "Now let me finish. The Longbottoms were soon attacked by Voldemort's followers and tortured. Neville was hidden away and I was with my parents. Dumbledore suggested that we be hidden by the Fidelius Charm. We would be kept hidden and the only ones that would be able to give away our hiding place would be the selected Secret Keeper."

Harry clenched his jaw and his family watched as he took in a few cleansing breaths to reign in his temper. "I won't go into detail, but Voldemort found the Secret Keeper and found us. When your grandfather got in the way, Voldemort killed him almost instantly. He had no intentions of killing your grandmother, but she stood in his way and begged him to take her instead of me."

Harry closed his eyes and remembered one of the few images he kept from when he could invade Voldemort's mind. He gave a twitch and felt the world grow cold. The memory, his mother's voice- it became clearer in his ears as he dipped further in.

"Harry!" a familiar voice called in his ear. Harry snapped back, looking at his wife and children with alarmed looks on their faces.

"Sorry, Ginny," Harry muttered, looking sheepish.

"Harry, perhaps you better stop."

"No!"

Both Ginny and Harry looked at Albus, who glared at his father. "We want the truth, dad. No theatrics. What happened to you? What happened to Rosie?"

James and Lily both nodded.

Harry gave a wry smile. "When your grandmother was killed, she inadvertently cast a very old form of magic. When one magical person is willing to die selflessly for another, it sets off a protection charm more powerful than any modern spell. When my mother was willing to die for me, that very spell protected me from his curses. When Voldemort tried to kill me, his soul was already cracked from creating so many horcruxes. The protection charm that my mum had over me ensured that I was alive, but the killing curse is strong and part of it broke through."

Harry lifted away his hair, tracing the old lightening-shaped scar that was barely visible under so many other wounds. "The spell rebounded on him, shattering his soul even further. The house was destroyed, Voldemort was reduced to nothing more than a shadow of a human. Part of him still laid behind though. In me. His soul had been split so many times that I became an unintentional horcrux."

The Potters fell silent, each lost in their own thoughts. Albus stared at the locket that rested in his father's hand. Harry offered it over to him, and Albus took it. He stood up, noting the dent in the front of it, as if a very strong force had rammed into it. Looking over at Rosie, Ron, Hermione and Hugo were all sitting by the bed, silent but paying no attention whatsoever to the Potters. A few beds down laid Scorpius. Alone.

"What does this have to do with them?" Albus said. He looked at the locket, tracing his thumb over the warm metal. "Is this another horcrux? Is it Voldemort's?"

Harry looked at his son in awe. "Very good, Al. But it wasn't Voldemort's. It was Viedemal's. Or at least, I figure it was."

The Potters looked at Harry in a mix of surprise.

"Viedemal? Who the hell is Viedemal?" James asked.

"Oh bloody hell! Scorpius's wife had a bloody horcrux?" Albus said, mouth dropping.

"Wait! Scorpy was _married_?" Lily squeaked, looking murderous.

"Who the hell is Viedemal?" James repeated, looking lost.

Harry put up his hands. They were receiving glances from the Weasley's, and the children quieted quickly. Their father looked intent and they knew better than to test that.

"Viedemal is Voldemort's daughter and his heir. Not a financial heir, since Voldemort's main concern was power, not wealth. But the heir of all sorts of dark magic and power. There are still those out there who believe in Voldemort's message and will follow his heir once she has the power to gain a following. But first she had to gain that power. Scorpius was forced to marry her because his father made an Unbreakable Vow that she would have access to his magic, to drain it from him. That can only be done completely in the bonds of marriage."

"Why would Scorpy's dad do that to him?" Lily asked.

"That's a good question," Ginny chimed in. "Scorpius is underage. He could have staved her off or better yet never make the Vow to begin with."

"He felt he had to," Harry said. "He thought Voldemort would take what he wanted either way. He planned on waiting until Scorpius's magic had fully matured, but then Scorpius started to fall in love with your cousin Rose and Viedemal got impatient. Draco became worried that if Scorpius ran off with Rose, that the Vow would take effect and kill both him and his son."

"How do you know all this, Harry?" Ginny said quietly.

Harry reached over to the bedside table, wrenching the drawer open. "This," Harry said, tossing a vial of silvery mist onto the bed. "Draco gave it to me before he died."

Ginny's eyes widened. "Draco is dead? What? How?"

"He finally figured out that his son's life is more important than his own."

Albus tossed the locket down on the bed, landing it squarely between Harry's legs. "This is a nice sentiment and all, but it still doesn't answer my question. What does this locket have to do with Rosie?"

"It was found on her chest when we brought her to the hospital. Since I was outside of the room but could hear the screaming, this is pretty much theory only, but I'll try my best." Harry drew in a deep sigh. "From what I could hear, Scorpius was blocking Viedemal's way to Rose. In essence, offering his life in exchange for hers. When Viedemal shot the killing curse, Rose was already marked by Scorpius's sacrifice, and when the curse was delivered, it hit the horcrux. The violence of the curse would probably have killed her and the horcrux along with it, but with Scorpius's protection, the horcrux was driven out of the locket and into Rose."

"How do you know that?" The Potters looked up to find Hermione standing over them, red-eyed but firm. "How Harry? How do you know that the horcrux is inside my daughter and not destroyed?"

Harry gave Ginny a look, and she promptly got off his leg. Standing up, Harry limped to Rosie's bed, drawing his wand. Placing the tip of the wand over her heart, he muttered "_sonorous._" The hospital wing suddenly filled with the sound of two beating hearts. Each at their own pace and tempo. "_Quietus_," Harry said after a moment and the duel hearts went back to their normal volume.

"A horcrux in a living being is parasitic. The longer it is in her, the more powerful it will become."

The room sat in silence for a long moment as they all contemplated Harry's words. Finally, Ron spoke up. "Harry? What happened to Viedemal?" he said, looking down on his daughter.

"She got away. Neville saw what was going on in the mirror, called the alarm and came to my aid. Unfortunately, we weren't able to secure her and she Apparated out." Harry put a hand on Ron's shoulder. "I'm sorry, mate."

Ron didn't say a word, but clenched his fist and brought it to his mouth, biting at the knuckles. "I can't believe that sorry little bastard pulled my daughter into this!" he growled. He pushed himself away from Harry, drawing his wand and marching over to Scorpius's unconscious form. "He put her in danger just so he could get some god-damn action!"

Harry, Ginny and Hermione's eyes all went wide as Ron poised his wand to strike.

"NO!" they cried in unison, each of them grabbing for the wand.

"GEROFF ME!" Ron cried as Ginny wrenched Ron's wand in a different direction as Harry and Hermione tackled Ron to the ground.

"RON! GET A HOLD OF YOURSELF!" Hermione begged, fresh tears streaming down her face. "IT'S NOT HIS FAULT!"

"LIKE BLOODY HELL IT'S NOT! GET OFF! GET OFF!"

"SIR! I WILL REMOVE YOU FROM MY WARD!" the medi-witch bellowed, making all of the children jump.

In the midst of all the ruckus, a weak "Rosie?" came from Scorpius's bed.

All eyes focused on Scorpius, thin and pale as he sat up, looking past the mass of bodies on the floor and staring straight at Rosie. "Oh gods!"

Without warning, Scorpius flung himself from the bed and began to rush toward Rosie's sleeping form.

"Mr. Malfoy!" the medi-witch cried, bustling over to him as fast as her legs could carry her. "You're much too weak-"

"ROSIE!" Scorpius wailed. Indeed, he was weak, his legs barely able to support him. He stumbled frantically, his face draining of color with each awkward step. "ROSIE!" he cried again, having to hold onto the railings of his own bed to push himself forward.

He passed Ron, who made a half-hearted movement to stop him, but withdrew his hand at the last moment.

Scorpius flung himself on Rosie's bed, not even away that he had an audience. Harry, Ginny, Ron and Hermione stood, watching as Scorpius's pale face dripped with sweat and tears from the exertion. He grabbed at Rosie, clutching her close to his body as he cried. "NO! PLEASE NO! YOU CAN'T BE DEAD!"

"MR. MALFOY!" the medi-witch shouted, attempting to pull Scorpius off Rosie. "THIS IS HARDLY THE PROPER-"

"I DON'T CARE!" Scorpius cried. He let Rosie fall back onto the bed, limp, shaking her. "WAKE UP! PLEASE WAKE UP! I LOVE YOU! I'M SORRY! PLEASE BE ALRIGHT!"

"MISS WEASLEY IS GOING TO BE FINE! NOW I ORDER YOU TO GO BACK TO BED!"

But Scorpius didn't seem to hear a word of this as he fell on Rosie's chest and wept bitterly, inconsolable.

Harry looked away from the scene to Ron, who stood there, dumbfounded. The wand clattered to the ground as Ron backed up and fell onto Scorpius's abandoned bed.

"He means it," he muttered quietly to himself, his eyes riveted as Scorpius displayed absolutely no emotions becoming of a Malfoy. "The bloody git loves her."

Harry, the wise man that he was, said nothing.

---------------------

AN: Sorry it took so long to post this. Anyway, there is more to come. :)


	33. Albus's Lover

It didn't take long for the medi-witch to call in reinforcements. Several charms and a calming potion later, Scorpius had finally been convinced to return to bed and was now gazing blankly at the ceiling, not responding in the slightest to anything around him. Rosie had been sent to St. Mungo's shortly after, Harry opting to stay in the Hogwarts infirmary for the remainder of his recovery. "After all," he noted. "Someone needs to keep an eye on Scorpius in case Viedemal tries to enchant him again." Ginny knew, however, that Harry avoided going to St. Mungo's at all costs. Not that she blamed him. It wasn't the most welcoming of places.

Ginny stole a glance over at Scorpius. The only reason he hadn't been taken to St. Mungo's yet was over the issue of his current orphanage. Astoria Malfoy had died the previous year, and now with Draco gone, the poor boy had no other family. He had an aunt and uncle in the states, but no word had come from them yet. Any papers concerning guardianship for Scorpius was either filed somewhere deep within Malfoy manor or non-existent. But St. Mungo's required underage witches and wizards to have permission from a legal parent or guardian to be admitted, which left Scorpius stuck at the Hogwarts hospital.

Leaning back, Ginny laid next to her husband, letting out a deep breath as she felt Harry wrapping an arm around her waist, pulling her close. Placing her hand over his, their fingers intertwined as his palm rested on her stomach.

"I was thinking," Ginny said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper, "that we should take Scorpius in. Give him a place to stay while he's recovering."

Harry snuffed his nose in her hair, making a non-committal noise.

"Hermione and I can help him catch up on his school work. He and Ron can get to know each other better- whether the dumb git likes it or not."

"Uh huh," Harry muttered, placing a gentle kiss on nape of his wife's neck.

"I'm sure you'd have loads to teach him. It would be nice to have someone in the house again-"

Harry hummed in contentment as his hand left hers and made a slow climb up her ribcage.

Ginny stopped thinking about Scorpius and narrowed her eyes. Her voice took on an air of suspicion. "I was also thinking that I might want to repaint the house. A nice Slytherin green ought to do nicely. Maybe do the living room in a nice snake motif to make Scorpius feel more at home."

"Sounds great, baby," Harry hummed, nudging his knee between Ginny's, locking their legs together.

Ginny wriggled in his embrace, tilting her head as his hands began to roam. "Or maybe we could bulldoze the house and build a Quidditch pitch over it. Hugo and James would be thrilled."

"Whatever you want."

"But first we could start a fire. I always wondered how well that Firebolt of yours would work as kindling."

"Yea, me too," Harry sighed, pulling Ginny closer to him. But Ginny wrenched herself from his grip.

"Harry James Potter!" she scolded, slapping at his hip. "You aren't listening at all, were you?"

"Um-" Harry tried to feign innocence, but absolutely failed. "Sorry?"

Ginny huffed out a breath. "As I was _saying…_" Ginny said, keeping her distance. "I think Scorpius should stay with us while he's recovering. He'll have protection, he'll get to be near Rose… Ron might even learn to like him. But if you'd rather ignore me-"

"I wasn't ignoring you," Harry quirked a bit of a smile. "I was paying _very_ close attention to you. I can't help it if you're sexy enough to distract me."

Ginny rolled her eyes. Harry heard her mumble something, roughly along the lines of 'thorny tanker' before she sat back down on the bed. "I can't believe you. The kids may be off doing only Merlin knows what, but there's still a sick teenager on a bed in the same room and a medi-witch in the office."

"Scorpius is under a calming potion that'll last at least another hour and the medi-witch has her door closed. And for the record," Harry said, sitting back up. "I think Scorpius staying with us will be a great idea. As soon as I submit the paperwork to retire, I'll have loads of time to catch him up to speed with his school work. Hermione better teach him potions though, I've always been terri-"

"Wait!" Ginny said, turning to her husband. "Go back."

"'I think Scorpius staying with us is a great idea?'"

"No, after that. Retirement?"

Harry smiled, then nodded.

Ginny's eyes went wide. "You mean it? You're finally going to retire?"

Harry nodded, then fell back on the bed as his wife tackled him.

"Oh, HARRY!" Ginny cried, quite forgetting herself. "You won't be out risking your neck anymore! No more hunts or testing curses! No more attacks or threats! No more nights wondering if you'll be killed! You'll be HOME!" With that, she planted a fat kiss on her husband's lips. Harry, never one to miss an opportunity for a quick snog, put one hand in his wife's hair and another on her bum.

"Bleh!" came a noise from the door.

Ginny looked up, hair mussed with a look of surprise on her face. Harry groaned in disappointment, flopping his head back on the pillow. He quickly removed his hand from Ginny's rear, settling it back on her waist.

"Gross!" James said, looking mildly sick. Lily and Albus were right behind him with Esmeralda and some other 6th year Hufflepuff that Harry didn't recognize, but who looked faintly familiar.

"Get a room!" Lily groaned, rolling her eyes. Esmeralda did not look quite so disturbed. Rather, she was plainly gawking.

Harry felt heat rise in his face. "May I help you?" he said, voice dripping with sarcasm. Ginny was presently climbing off her husband and trying to soothe down her hair.

"No," Albus said in a quiet voice. "You look like you had your hands full, as it was."

"Too right!" Harry said. "And trust me, Albus Severus, when you grow up and find the right woman, you'll have your hands full and will be extremely grateful when your noisy children learn how to knock!" Harry sat up, climbing from the bed and tugging on his socks.

"Um… about that…"

Harry looked up at his youngest son, his long, grey-streaked hair falling into his eyes from his stooped position. Albus shifted feet, his cheeks flaming. "Well, you know… A lot has happened lately, and I thought- Well-"

Looking at his other two children, Lily was stifling a giggle with Esmeralda, James was looking confused. "Well?" Harry said, loudly enough to make Albus jump. "Out with it, then!"

"I uh- Oh bloody hell!" Albus muttered, tugging on the 6th year Hufflepuff's hand, pulling him forward. "Dad, I'd like you to meet Cedric." Harry blinked, peering over his glasses. "My- my boyfriend."

For a moment, the room was absolutely quiet. Harry blinked. This boy, Cedric, blushed, then extended his hand eagerly. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Potter. You and mum went to school together! She told me all about you!"

Harry reached out numbly, barely registering the slightly damp hand in his in favor of pinpointing exactly where he remembered this boy. He was handsome with black hair, almond-shaped eyes and a faint- very faint- Scottish accent.

Harry plopped down on the bed. He was feeling a little faint himself. Amid the swirling and buzzing in his ears, Harry realized dimly that Ginny was laughing.

Two pairs of emerald green eyes darted in her direction.

"Oh Albus!" Ginny cried, wrapping her arms around her son. "I was wondering when you were going to tell us! I'm so proud!"

Albus choked for air but managed to bellow at the exact same moment that his father did.

"_YOU KNEW AND DIDN'T TELL ME_?" they both cried at once.

Ginny ruffled Albus's hair. "Of course I knew! Sit down, Harry. Granted, I didn't know you were seeing Cho Chang's son, but still- Harry! I told you to sit down!"

Harry looked between his son and Cedric, his eyes dropping down just in time to see Cedric taking hold of Albus's hand. "WHOA! You drop that hand there, Ced- BOY!" Instead, Cedric squeezed tighter. Albus smiled fondly at the boy. Harry dropped his head in his hands, wishing desperately for some fire whiskey. His son- Albus was…

Feeling his head spin, Harry laid back down on the bed. Ginny was trying to hush Lily and Esmeralda, James was carefully eyeing the Hufflepuff. Albus was looking shell-shocked, but relieved. This time, Harry was the one feeling a little sick.

Ginny shooed James and Lily out, hugging Albus and Cedric in turn. Harry sat up and took some water. He took a drink, eyed the glass, then opted to dump the rest of it over his head. Shaking off some droplets of water, Harry only caught the tail end of Ginny inviting Cedric over after Christmas to meet the rest of the family. While Ginny was fawning over Cho's son, Albus walked over to his father, towering about Harry in his scuffed shoes and disheveled hair.

"Well, dad," Albus said, drawing in a deep breath. "What do you think?"

Harry looked up at his son and remembered there was a day when the boy was tottering around, grabbing onto the corners of coffee tables and the family dog, learning how to walk. He remembered taking Albus to Platform 9 ¾ to start his first year; how nervous and endearing his was. Then he suddenly grew up, complete with cracking voice, mood-swings and mischief. He watched his son grow up and failed to notice- this.

Harry sighed, resigned. "Are you happy with him?"

Albus's breath caught in his chest, then let out with a great _whoosh_, as if he had been holding it in. "Yea," he said, turning a deep shade of red. He looked so happy that he was practically giddy. "Really happy."

"Does his mother know yet?"

"Oh yea," Cedric said, edging away from Ginny's embrace. "She's known since this summer."

"Ginny!" Harry yelled, tilting to see around Albus. "Why am I always the last to know these things?"

"Because you're a bloody tosser, that's why!"

Harry and Albus looked at each other. That seemed to settle it.


	34. Scorpius Wakes

Ginny didn't stay too long. She went off to her parents to tell them the good news about Harry's upcoming retirement. James got bored and went off to practice for his upcoming match against Ravenclaw. Lily probed and prodded Harry for information with her best interview voice before finally deciding that her father was boring and old. Albus, now that he made his big announcement, escorted Cedric back to Hufflepuff territory.

Which left Harry and Scorpius completely alone.

The sun began to set, setting off an orange glow around the room. The medi-witch flittered in and out of the ward, checking on Scorpius and finally, after much of Harry's urging, agreed to let Harry keep an eye over Scorpius.

Harry got up, preparing himself a warm basin of water and a sponge. He went behind a vanity screen and bathed, scrubbing away the sweat and dirt from the past two days and thought about his life.

Three children. Three beautiful, willful children. He remembered Ginny on her wedding day, giddy and shy as if she was still a school girl with a crush. Then there was the day she told Harry she was pregnant. Harry had wept, collapsing in her arms and kissing her with unsuppressed joy. He remembered holding James in his arms, hearing the first weak cry that seemed to shatter Harry's world completely.

Harry wrung out the sponge, watching the dirt dye the water a dingy grey.

Despite his joy over becoming a father, Harry knew that there were responsibilities. Ginny quit Quidditch, not wanting to endanger their first child's life for a sport, and took to writing for the Daily Prophet. Harry was quickly climbing in the ranks at the ministry and there was little time to celebrate. Before he knew it, James was born, then teething. And then Ginny was pregnant again.

Life had become a blur, but Harry was fiercely protective. It had taken a lot for Harry to allow James to play Quidditch and he was secretly relieved that Albus had taken no interest in the sport. When Lily grew old enough to leave, Harry suppressed the urge to write every teacher to tell them not to let anything happen to her. Harry wasn't entirely sure what he would do when Lily stopped gossiping about boys and started dating, but he was pretty sure it would involve several well-deserved threats and possibly even castration.

He spent his whole life away on adventures, playing the father-figure from a distance and in all that time, he never, ever, allowed anyone to tell his children about his life at Hogwarts. Questions had been quickly dismissed and Harry sugar-coated his muggle-raised youth shamelessly for the sake of his kids. For the longest time, he thought they believed him, but Albus's outburst had stopped him cold.

Harry finished scrubbing, then cast a quick drying charm. He dressed thoughtfully, climbing his way into his favorite pair of muggle jeans and a jumper that Ginny had brought him. Warm and snug and clean, Harry gave himself a good, hard look in the mirror.

Running his hand over face, Harry traced over the scars. There were too many to count. Too many to remember each individual battle, each curse. He remembered when he had first met Mad-Eye Moody, he got the impression of a face made from weathered wood, carved by someone with only the crudest understanding of a human face. Though Harry didn't require a magical eye and wasn't horribly disfigured, he was hardly the image of self-preservation. He ran his finger over the ridge of his ear, feeling the gap that had blasted off at the very crest during his first year as an auror. Scars crossed over his face, making out a map and form of a man who had hidden so much over the years that it was hard to tell where he ended and the image began.

Retrieving a pair of scissors from the supply cabinet, Harry stood in front of the mirror and slowly began to hack away at his hair and, in effect, his fears.

----------------------

Scorpius woke slowly, blinking into the darkness as a figure set to work lighting the candles.

Blinking, Scorpius felt the calming potion wear off, feeling an intense growl in his stomach and a sharp prickle in his eyes.

"Ah, awake I see," the figure said in a pleasant voice. It crossed the room and blew out the match, leaving the room dancing in the light of the flames.

Scorpius felt his breath hitch weakly as he snapped into himself. His eyes immediately turned to the direction of Rosie's empty yet tidy bed.

Panic seized in Scorpius's chest. The room was nothing more than a mix of colors and fuzzy shapes. He vaguely remembered clutching Rosie in his arms, rocking her and crying out in agony. It occurred to him that his father must not have seen, or else Scorpius would have been shipped off to Albania again. Or rather, it had not happened at all- being just another dream, just like the cottage in that unknown country he kept imagining.

He gingerly pulled himself up as the figure drew closer. Hidden by shadow, it lit a candle and made its way to Scorpius.

"Relax," the figure said. "I'm not going to hurt you."

Scorpius shifted his eyes, adjusting them to the light of the room. His head spun with heat, his vision shifting in and out of focus. He blinked a few times to clear the problem, but they did not seem to want to work for him.

"Who are you?" Scorpius said in the direction of the figure.

The figure sat down on the bed at Scorpius's feet. "It's Mr. Potter. Albus's dad."

Scorpius glared at the blur. "What do you want?"

"Checking to see how you are. You've been through quite a series of shocks."

"Shocks?"

Harry nodded and paused hesitantly. "Scorpius," he said, making a gesture with its arm, "how many fingers am I holding up?"

Before he could catch himself, Scorpius squinted to accommodate for the request, then went back to glaring. "Look, what's going on? Why am I here? Where's Rosie?"

Harry allowed his hand to drop. "Rose is at St. Mungo's. She followed you during a trance, and was severely injured but she should be fine. You've been under treatment for the past few months because a witch named Viedemal had been sucking your powers from you. Your little outburst earlier was a little too much, I'm afraid. In fact," Harry said, taking a small vial from his pockets, he uncorked it and handed it to Scorpius. Scorpius took it, hands fumbling as it was hard to make out where the vial ended and Harry's hands began. Scorpius eyed the vial cautiously, noting its strong smell of currants.

"Drink it," Harry urged. "It's a magical booster. It won't replace the powers you've lost. That will take time, some Healers and a little re-training. But it will help strengthen what you still have left, temporarily."

Scorpius took a moment, glaring at the blur. Outburst? Viedemal? For some reason, the scenario just seemed unreal, and therefore, untrue. It would be easy to toss the potion away, but glaring made him dizzy and feeling more disoriented. Quickly mulling over his choices, Scorpius brought the vial to his lips and drank.

A cold chill swept over Scorpius's body as the potion hit his system. He opened his eyes, unaware that he had closed them and looked at Harry, his vision restored.

Scorpius blinked back in surprise and handed back the vial.

"Better?" Harry asked. Scorpius nodded. "Good. Remember, it's only temporary, but with proper treatment, your magic will get stronger and more stable. I can't guarantee that you'll ever have your full powers back, but it's something."

If Scorpius seemed surprised by this, he didn't show it. Instead, he stared out the window, watching the rain as it beat against the glass. They sat in silence for a while, listening to the steady rhythm of the rain. Maybe it was age, maybe it was experience, but looking at the son of his old enemy brought nothing but overwhelming sadness to Harry. Scorpius was so young, so small thanks to the illness and torture that had racked his young body. Sixteen wasn't nearly old enough to experience death, heartbreak and suffering. But the world offered little protection, no guarantee of happiness, and Harry knew it.

Still, the shock of Scorpius's outburst over Rosie all was not lost on Harry. He remembered being a teenager, going through horrors that no one else could even conceive of understanding. He remembered what it had been like to have the world convinced that you were a monster, to turn its back on you; to love so much that it felt as if you were bursting inside. And there Scorpius had been, so willing to make a fool of himself. So desperate to find out if Rosie was alright that he had completely lost him mind in front of his peers.

But he also knew that now was the time that Scorpius needed a friend. A guide. Draco could not have done it. Harry didn't have much of a chance either, but he had to try.

"Scorpius, there is something we do need to talk about," Harry said, drawing Scorpius's attention back to him. "We're having trouble finding the papers regarding your guardianship. We need to contact someone who will give you permission to be sent over to St. Mungo's so they can treat you."

Scorpius snorted. "Why do you need that? Is my father hexing anyone who asks? Or, more likely, just ignoring the fact that I'm alive?"

Harry looked back at Scorpius in disbelief. Of all the things that had happened in that night, Harry could have sworn that Scorpius had seen-

"Scorpius-" Harry said, holding his breath. "Your father is dead."

Scorpius's eyes widened, then narrowed. Harry knew what Scorpius was thinking before the words even left his lips. "I don't believe you."

"Scorpius-"

"My father is not dead!"

"Draco is-"

"SHUT UP!" Scorpius bellowed. "SHUT UP!"

Harry slumped back. Scorpius was breathing heavy, a look of pure fury written across his face, but tears were standing in his eyes. Deep-down, Scorpius vaguely remembered seeing his father fall. He remembered dragging Rosie's body away and seeing how still his father was lying. And maybe, at that time, it occurred to him why his father might be lying so still, but it couldn't be-

"I'm sorry, Scorpius," Harry said.

Scorpius met Harry's eyes with a trembling lip and a tear spilling down his cheek. "Well, good riddance, then!" he shouted, voice cracking. "If all this is true then he almost got everyone killed! Do you know what that bastard used to do to me? What he did to mum? He deserved to die!"

"You don't mean that," Harry said quietly.

Scorpius gave him a look of loathing, very reminiscent of the ones Harry had received from Draco during their school years. "Don't you _dare_ tell me what I mean and what I don't mean," he spat. "That son of a bitch didn't give a damn what happened to me! He tortured me, you know that? He hated me! He hated being near me! He's hated me since I was born!"

"Your father didn't hate you."

"FUCK YOU!"

"Scorpius, you need to listen to me!"

"Why should I listen to you, you pompous-"

"_Silencio_!"

Scorpius fell silent mid-insult. His mouth fell open in shock, then dissolved into a litany of what Harry could only guess was a stream of very colorful curses. Harry waited until Scorpius finally gave up and crossed his arms over his chest, his face flushed an angry red.

"Scorpius, I know you're very upset right now, but you've got to listen to me. Your father made some mistakes, some very big mistakes. But he never hated you." Scorpius rolled his eyes, which Harry chose to ignore. "Now if you're willing to calm down and listen to me, I can explain."

Scorpius took a deep breath but really had no choice in the matter. He nodded reluctantly. With a flick of his wand, the spell was removed.

"Just for the record, there's nothing to talk about," Scorpius muttered, voice straining to remain steady. "I just lost my bastard of a father who nearly got us all killed," he said with sharp bitterness in his voice. "I hate him," he said clearly, venom dripping from the very words.

Scorpius stared resolutely at the blank wall, squaring his shoulders as he heard Harry get up from the bed and move around. For a moment, he thought that Harry had given up. Rather, he watched as Harry came into view, carrying a large stone basin and setting it on a nearby nightstand.

"The headmistress was kind enough to let me borrow this. Scorpius, do you know what a Pensieve is?"

Scorpius shook his head.

"Very ancient magic, this is," Harry said, lifting a small vial from his robes. Inside, a silvery mass of mist swirled about. "It allows you to clear your thoughts and view the memories of others." He unsealed the vial. "It can be bloody useful at times. Or a curse, depending on how you look at it." With that, he tipped the silver mist into the basin.

Scorpius, despite himself, sat up, trying to get a good look. He hadn't realized what he had done until he saw Harry extend a hand to him, which he took. Taking to his feet, he padded over to the basin, peering in. Vague shapes began moving about, taking form.

He looked up at Harry, whose face remained unreadable. "What's in there?"

"Come with me and find out." With that, Harry tilted his head into the Pensieve and floated down into it.

Quickly recovering from the shock, Scorpius followed.


	35. Draco's Tale

Scorpius landed into the hallway of a train next to Harry. The images outside the window were familiar, clearing showing that the train was more than halfway to its destination of Hogwarts. Students milled about, but even in the small hallway, they seemed to pass by Scorpius and Harry without a single look of acknowledgement. Remembering what Harry said about viewing old memories, it made sense not to be noticed. After all, they weren't really there. But the sensation of being ignored was strangle, nonetheless.

"Father told me that there would be a disgusting amount of muggles at the station, but I had no idea that there would be so many mudbloods!" came a young voice from a nearby compartment. Scorpius stole a look at Harry, who nodded in the direction of the voice. Scorpius approached it warily. "But if anything, that'll make it all the better. Once I get sorted into Slytherin, I'll be king of Hogwarts, just you watch."

"What makes you think you'll get into Slytherin?" came another voice.

"I have my connections. My father is on very good terms with the head of the Slytherin house. Bloody better than the demented fool that's running the place."

Scorpius peered in through the open door, seeing a young boy, a first year, looking strikingly like himself. He let out a gasp of surprise, seeing Draco already surrounded by Slytherin students. Draco held up a toad. "Look-it here! Already nabbed myself Longbottom's toad! Soddy git lost it already! Parents are loony bloodtraiters! Pathetic excuse for purebloods if you ask me!" Flourishing his wand, the toad started changing colors.

More students joined in the laughter, obviously impressed.

"Wouldn't be so cocky, if I were you," one particularly nasty-looking 6th year said, leaning back.

Draco turned the toad back to its natural color, letting it hop out into the hallway. "Why?" His eyes narrowed.

The 6th year grinned. "You ain't bloomin' dotty, are you? Know what year it is and all?" He gave Draco a grimy-toothed smirk. "An' I saw him running onto the platform. Seems that ol' Dumbledore is letting 'im in after all."

"Who?"

"Harry bloody Potter. Ruddy Sod-Who-Lived. Same year as you lot. Don't do your maths, now do you?"

Draco leaned forward, seemingly ignoring the insult. "Harry Potter. Coming to Hogwarts…" He looked thoughtful for a moment.

"Not easy becoming king with 'im around, tell you that," the 6th year chortled.

"No," Draco said, sitting back with his arms crossed sullenly over his chest. "It won't be."

"What are you going to do, Draco?" a stubby fellow 1st year said quietly.

"Shut up, Crabbe," he said, voice growing dark. Hauling himself up from the seat, he walked out of the compartment, Goyle and Crabbe trailing behind. Draco stalked by the windows of the other compartments, taking in quick glances until he finally stopped. He held up a hand, and Crabbe collided into Goyle.

Opening the door swiftly, Draco and his goons went inside the compartment.

Scorpius drew closer to hear the conversation inside.

"Is it true?" he heard Draco say, voice sounding alarmingly smug. "They're saying all down the train that Harry Potter's in this compartment. So it's you, is it?"

Peering into the compartment, Scorpius saw a pair of 1st year boys- one gangly and red-haired (it took a moment for Scorpius to realize that it was a young Ron Weasley) with a smudge of dirt on his nose. The other was thin and pale, with untidy black hair, taped glasses and a lightening-bolt-shaped scar on his forehead.

Scorpius gave a short start, glancing back at Harry who gave him the barest hint of a smile. Reaching up, he parted the hair covering his forehead, revealing the same yet now diminished scar as the young boy.

Part of the conversation was lost as Scorpius took in what he was seeing. It was hard to believe that the red-haired boy would grow up to one day father Rosie, the wonderful girl she was; that he would one day track Scorpius down and try to hex him to pieces. It was hard to imagine his father, short and smug with baby-fat still clinging to his cheeks. Even harder to imagine that this scrawny little boy in baggy clothes and holding a chocolate frog card would one day be famous for destroying Lord Voldemort. The boy didn't even seem capable of combing his own hair.

Scorpius was startled out of his thoughts as he watched Draco extend his hand. "You'll soon find out that some wizarding families are much better than others, Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there."

In a look that oddly mirrored older-Harry's look of calm determination and shaky temper, the little boy in taped glasses leveled his eyes with Draco's and replied coolly, "I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks."

Some words where exchanged, and there was a flurry of movement as Goyle started wailing about being bitten.

The train disappeared in a swirl of motion.

Scorpius felt the scene around him change. He looked towards Harry and gave him a questioning look, but Harry didn't say a word. Not that there was really time. It didn't take long before he saw his father, a 3rd year clutching his arm and wailing as Hagrid, looking lost and terrified, thundered past them and into the doorway of the infirmary.

Scorpius and Harry followed, 3rd year versions of Crabbe, Goyle and a pug-faced girl coming in after them. Draco thrashed his head theatrically, wailing louder and louder.

"Calm down, Mr. Malfoy. It's not _that_ bad of a scratch!"

"Can I do anything'?" Hagrid begged, wide-eyed and helpless.

"NO!" Draco cried, cowering and covering his eyes with his un-injured arm. "I can't take anymore beatings!"

The pug-faced girl rounded on Hagrid. "Don't you think you and your bloody hippogriff have done enough?" she screeched. Crabbe and Goyle looked as if they wanted to threaten Hagrid, but even _they_ knew better than to threaten a teacher.

Hagrid's face paled and Scorpius almost reached out to comfort him, almost forgetting that it was only a memory. Half of him felt compelled to tell Hagrid that his father never even had so much as a scar from whatever just happened, and part of his wanted to beat his father to a pulp for drawing out this agony. But the scene then dissolved again, leaving them in the hallway of the infirmary with Draco and the pug-faced girl laughing.

"My my, Pansy-" Draco said, flexing his healed arm. "I think, between the two of us, we'll get that dumb oaf fired for sure."

The pug-faced girl as Pansy let out a cruel laugh, but glanced over at Draco with a knowing smile. "That was really clever of you, ignoring that stupid teacher and annoying that hippogriff so you can get that thing killed."

Draco stopped dead. "You know, that's not a bad idea. Did you see how well Potter gone on with that thing? I bet he thinks of it as a new pet! And you know how close he is with Hagrid? It would crush him!"

Pansy got an evil glint in her eye. She let out a smug huff. "Who cares about Potter anyway?" With that, she took Draco by the arm and steered him towards a suit of armor. Once the pair was mostly hidden from view, Scorpius followed and gasped at what he saw.

Pansy was against the wall, drawing Draco into a kiss. Draco looked petrified, eyes comically wide in shock as Pansy kept him close, her eyes tightly shut. The shock seemed to fade quickly as Draco's eyes fluttered closed, a high, keening moan came from deep within his throat as if he finally understood that this was supposed to be a pleasant experience.

The scene dissolved again. From the compartment on the train, he saw a 6th year version of Zabini's father falling into Goyle's father's lap, the pair snarling at one another in general surprise. There was a sudden indent on one of the empty seats, and suddenly a trainer popped out in midair. It quickly shuffled itself into the over-head luggage rack, but it had not gone completely unnoticed by the occupants. Draco's eyes narrowed as he, too, saw that shoe and a flash of pant leg.

Rather than alerting the rest of the inhabitants to the intruder, however, Draco simply waited for Zabini and Goyle to settle down before laying his head in Pansy's lap.

"So, Zabini," Draco said with a yawn, "what did Slughorn want?"

"Just trying to make-up to well-connected people. Not that he managed to find many," he said, still glowering at Goyle.

Draco sneered hotly. "Who else had he invited?"

Zabini went through a list that Scorpius mostly recognized, including Professor Longbottom, Harry and Rosie's aunt. Draco's sneer deepened. "Slughorn probably hasn't heard I'm on the train or-"

"I wouldn't bank on an invitation," Zabini said, shaking his head. "I don't think he's interested in Death Eaters."

Draco seethed, but forced out a humorless laugh. "Well, who cares what he's interested in?" Draco said, haughty venom dripping in his voice. "I mean, I might not even be at Hogwarts next year, what's it matter to me if some fat old has-been likes me or not? You never know. I might have- er- moved on to bigger and better things."

The whole compartment seemed to be floored by this news, although it made absolutely no sense to Scorpius.

"Do you mean- _Him_?" Pansy said, as if nothing was ever so awe-inspiring.

Malfoy shrugged, but obviously was relishing the undivided attention. "Mother wants me to complete my education, but personally, I don't see it as that important these days. I mean, think about it… When the Dark Lord takes over, is he going to care how many O.W.L.S. or N.E.W.T.S anyone's got? Of course he isn't… It'll be all about the kind of service he received, the level of devotion he was shown."

Scorpius forgot himself and scoffed, remembering the blistering lecture he had received the beginning of his 5th year from his father about the importance of good grades. Harry shot him an odd look, and Scorpius shrugged, turning back in time to hear his 6th year father say "Maybe the job he wants me to do isn't something that you need to be qualified for," Draco said quietly. He pointed out the window. "I can see Hogwarts. We'd better get our robes on."

The mood seemed to break around the crowd. Crabbe put away a comic book, Draco got up from Pansy's lap to let her get to her trunk. Goyle got up and reached to the compartment where the trainer had disappeared into only moments before. Goyle Sr. swung his trunk down and it paused and rattled, as if hitting an invisible barrier. A faint gasp of pain could be heard from the luggage rack and both Scorpius and Draco's eyes narrowed at the direction of the noise for a long moment, then Draco seemed to come to a decision as his grey eyes flashed in alarming knowledge.

Draco settled back into dressing for their arrival to Hogwarts. Scorpius and Harry dodged away as Goyle muscled his way through, followed by Zabini, Crabbe and finally Pansy, who looked like she wanted to linger but didn't argue when Draco shooed her away. Draco closed the door behind him and let down the blinds, making it impossible for Scorpius to see in.

On pure reflect and curiosity, Scorpius ran through the door, only hoping that since it was all a memory, he wouldn't be kept out. He was right, getting through the barrier just in time to see Draco lift his foot and smash it down into the nose of a 16 year old Harry Potter.

The scene dissolved around them again, and Scorpius looked back over his shoulder at Harry, who shrugged. Scorpius's concentration on Harry was cut by an anguished howl, which drew Scorpius into the next room. The hallway was only recognizable by it's elaborate frame-work, but other than that, Scorpius would never have known it was the Malfoy Manor.

"I'm sorry!" Draco cried. He was on the floor, panting. He was roughly the same age as Scorpius.

"Not good enough, Malfoy!" a high, cruel voice hissed. The owner of the voice was pale and snake-like. His eyes (if the creature was even male) were red, his nostrils mere slits. Not a single strand of hair could be seen on his head. "Crucio!"

Draco screamed, writhing in agony, his hands clawing his chest in a way that was all too familiar to Scorpius.

"STOP THIS!" Lucius cried. Draco was allowed some rest as the snake-like man lost his concentration. Scorpius turned around to see his grandfather being restrained. He seemed to regret his outburst as soon as he said it, eyes wide and fearful. "I'm sorry, my lord! I didn't mean-!"

"SILENCIO!" the snake-man cried, letting Lucius's groveling die away. "This doesn't concern you."

He set the curse on Draco again. Lucius tried to yell, but nothing came out. Draco's screaming reached a fever pitch.

Just before Scorpius forgot that this was only a memory and stepped forward to stop the snake-like man, the curse was lifted. Draco went limp, his breathing shallow but regular.

The snake-man waved his wand, and Draco was lifted upright to face him as if held upright by invisible men. The man smiled. "Are you ready to die, Draco?" Draco's only response was wide-eyed terror. "Are you ready to die for failing your Lord Voldemort?"

Scorpius let out a shocked breath. He looked over at Harry, who was absently rubbing the scar on his forehead. Harry noted Scorpius's attention and lowered his hand. He seemed embarrassed to be caught.

Voldemort began to lose his patience again. "Crucio!" Draco's knees rose to his chest from the sudden shock of pain.

"Please! Please!" he cried weakly. "I'll do anything! Please!"

Those seemed to be precisely the words that Voldemort wanted to hear. With a sick grin, he ended the curse, allowing Draco a moment to breathe.

"Bellatrix," he said with a triumphant sneer, "bring Viedemal." Bellatrix hastened to obey. Draco's brow, as well as Scorpius's, arched in confusion. She returned with a small bundle wrapped in silk, smiling with a twisted, prideful smirk. "Unwrap her," Voldemort commanded. Bellatrix obeyed, revealing the face of a beautiful baby, no more than a month or so old. Her hair, despite her youth, was black, thick and velvety. Her eyes a deep chocolate brown, emphasized by her delicate porcelain skin.

"Allow me to introduce you to my heir, Viedemal." Draco stared down at the baby. She cooed. Memories of the summer started to flood over Scorpius, and if he hadn't known what she would become, he would have thought that it was cute. "When I finally take down Potter, she will rule by my side."

Death Eaters looked around the room. Scorpius could hear faint whispers around the room, only able to catch snippets here and there.

"The whole lot took polyjuice potion."

"We got rid of Mad-Eye. Good riddance."

"Little bugger won't dare show his face in Hogwarts."

"SILENCE!" Voldemort hissed loudly, and the room fell silent. He kept his wand pointed at Draco's chest. Voldemort continued with his speech, "The spell that was used to create her will not give her her full powers automatically. This, if you prove to be of any use to me, is where you come in."

Draco twitched noticeably, as did Lucius.

"You have two choices, Malfoy," Voldemort hissed. "I can either kill you now or you will agree to help my heir gain her full power."

Draco's eyes darted around, looking for counsel. Most of the Death Eaters seemed too scared to look at Draco directly. From this angle, Draco couldn't see Lucius.

Voldemort, sensing the conflict, gave Draco another dose of Crucio. Scorpius forgot the intense pitch of the screams until they were renewed. He couldn't tell if was the shock of the new screams that made them more frightening, or the fierce curiosity of what Voldemort would have him do if he agreed.

"ALRIGHT!" Draco screamed, face turning purple as the curse dragged out much longer than it had before. "I'LL DO WHATEVER YOU WANT!"

The curse ended, and if Draco could have slumped down, he would have. Instead, harsh sobs were racked from his throat.

Voldemort grasped Draco's hand roughly in his. Draco squeaked in pain but Voldemort ignored the protest. Draco would be allowed to rest after they finished the Vow. He raised his own wand, placing the tip on their linked hands.

"My Lord," Snape said, stepping forward, drawing out his wand. The sound of his voice made Scorpius startle. He hadn't noticed him before and had never seen him outside of his portrait. "I will be more than happy to act as your Bonder. It's too dangerous to-"

"NO ONE ASKED FOR YOUR OPINION! You may have gotten rid of that old fool for me, but you have also failed to destroy Potter! Be thankful that I'm giving you the post of Headmaster at all! Now get out of my sight!"

Snape gave a respectful but hesitant bow and left the room.

Before anyone could recover from this outburst, before Draco could chose death over loyalty, Voldemort hastily tightened his grip on Draco's hand. "Draco Malfoy, you will promise to help Viedemal!"

Draco hesitated. Bellatrix, still holding the bundle, gave him a sharp zap with her wand. "I-I will," he stammered. From Voldemort's wand came a thin tongue of bright flame. It wrapped around their joined hands.

"You will have a son, and marry him to her!"

This time the zap came quicker. "I will!" he cried. Another tongue, joined the first, entwining around the other.

"And she will use him to gain power, at whatever cost!"

"Yes!" A third tongue lashed out of Voldemort's wand, braiding itself among the first two.

"And-should it be necessary-" Voldemort said, "you will ensure that she will defeat Potter's minions!"

Draco's eyes went wide as Bellatrix's Crucio curse bit into his spine. "YES!"

This time, a large, green fiery snake erupted from the end of the wand, devouring the tongues of light. The fire sunk into their skins. Draco let out a miserable howl; Voldemort only smiled viciously. "Don't look so down, Mr. Malfoy. When she is done feeding," he said, putting his wand back into his robes, "you will be left in peace."

Draco could barely keep his eyes open. "Is that a promise?" he whispered. Suddenly, he felt very aware that asking such a question might as well be like signing his own death warrant, but rather, Voldemort cackled.

"No," he replied.

Collapsing to the ground, Draco passed out.

The scene dissolved again. They were in another part of the Malfoy Manor, filled with furniture that Scorpius didn't recognize, but it was obviously very old.

Lucius was positively beaming, Draco didn't look so sure. In the corner, three teenagers- two of them younger versions of Ron and Hermione Weasley, the remaining teenager looking horribly puffy and deformed- were piled on the floor, as a group of bounty-hunters stood over them. There was much commotion, but Lucius dragged Draco down to look at the misshapen boy. "Is that Harry Potter?"

"I don't know-" he replied, sounding unsure. The look in his eyes gave in the impression that he was lost in indecision. On the one hand, Harry was always his rival and nothing would put the Malfoys back into good standing with Voldemort faster than having Harry Potter. But then again-

The scene dissolved yet again, making Scorpius feel a bit dizzy. They were on a broomstick, soaring over a gigantic fire, his father screaming "CRABBE! NO!"

The fire melted away as they entered into an entirely different section of the castle. Draco was being hugged by his parents, Scorpius's grandmother was crying.

The room changed, becoming small and lined with books. Obviously an office.

"THEY CAN'T DO THIS!"

Scorpius watched as his father, unkempt and unshaven, barely looking eighteen or nineteen, towered over a little wizard in lawyer's robes. The little wizard, like a trembling mouse, sat behind his desk as if he wanted to disappear under it. Draco stared at him with a half-mad look about him, standing with both hands planted firmly on the pile of legal papers.

"I-I'm afraid they c-can, Mr. Malfoy-"

"But this can't be legal!" Draco yelled, then cursed. He took a fistful of papers and rattled them in front of the lawyer.

"I-it's not. Of c-course it's not. But-"

The door opened behind them, showing another lawyer, much bulkier than Malfoy- especially around the middle. But at Draco's given state, it wasn't hard to accomplish. "It's character assassination, is what it is," said the lawyer in a firm, bass voice. He strode in, standing behind the desk the little wizard occupied, and watched him scurry out of the room. Taking his place in the chair, he sat forward, watching Draco patiently. "My apologies for Mr. Tavan. He's a brilliant lawyer when it comes to paperwork, but other than that, he's not much help." He waved a hand to one of the guest chairs. "Please sit, Mr. Malfoy."

"I'd prefer to stand," Draco gritted out. The new, gruff lawyer didn't argue. "Now, tell me why the Ministry is spreading lies about my family."

"As I said, Mr. Malfoy, this is character assassination-"

"Meaning?"

"Meaning that the Ministry wants your father's conviction no matter what the facts really are. People hate Death Eaters, but the general consensus is that if someone was under threat, blackmail or the Imperious Curse, that anyone would join. But a man who would willingly beat his own son-"

"My father," Draco gritted out, "never beat me."

"What has actually happened between you and your father isn't the point here," the lawyer said. "If they can prove to the jury and to other members of the wizarding community that Lucius was the type of man to enact violence to his only son and heir, then there will be no doubt of his status as a Death Eater and it will ensure his conviction."

"I-I'll testify against it!"

"It won't do much good, I'm afraid," the lawyer sighed. "Fortunately for you, you joined before you were of age and Mr. Potter has confirmed your positive role in the war, but he was very condemning of Lucius." He gave a brief pause. "The Ministry is determined to make an example of your father. They care very little for the truth, especially if it interferes with the results they want."

The two wizards lapsed into silence for a moment, Draco deep in concentration, the lawyer quietly waiting for his reaction. Scorpius took a glimpse at Harry, who gave Scorpius an apologetic grimace. Beneath his numerous scars, he was pale.

After what seemed like an eternity, Draco pushed himself away from the desk, pacing the room. "I can't let this happen-" Draco said quietly but firmly.

"Mr. Malfoy-"

"My father is a lot of things but he never abused me!" Draco snapped. "He's reformed! We went against Voldemort! We didn't become blood-traitors just to be slapped around by the Ministry of Magic! You're not doing enough!"

"Mr. Malfoy!"

"WHAT?"

The lawyer stood up from behind his desk. "I believe that I have been very patient with you. Right now you should consider yourself lucky that you aren't in Azkaban for conspiracy, or for the attacks on Ronald Weasley and Katharine Bell! You're lucky that Potter was able to convince the Wizengamot that you not only felt remorse for your actions against Albus Dumbledore, but that you also played a vital role in taking down He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named! You owe him your life and your freedom!"

Draco pounded his fist on the table. "I don't owe him anything! This the second time that that bloody Gryffindor put my father behind bars! If it weren't for Potter-"

"If it weren't for Potter, no muggle-born would be safe," the lawyer said. "In fact, not even the purebloods," he added with an air of finality. "In fact, you're lucky that your father is willing to take on the blame uncontested."

The lawyer watched as Draco began pacing again. "Just get us out of this!" He bellowed, grabbing a handful of papers and tossing them into the air. By the time they settled, Draco was storming out.

The door slammed so hard that the room rattled.

The scene dissolved again, taking on the form of the Malfoy Manor, although it wasn't the same house that Scorpius remembered, neither in the era of Draco denying that the misshapen teen was Harry Potter or from his childhood. The walls were bare, outlines of old portraits revealed the undiminished color of the paint. The room was devoid of all signs of decoration. Expensive furniture, tapestries, ornaments- they were all gone.

Draco sat in the middle of the floor, looking desolate and lost in thought. He seemed to have aged by leaps and bounds, his hair already starting to recede.

"Draco?" came a soft voice.

Scorpius's father looked up, turning towards the voice. Scorpius's mother came into the room, waddling over and heavy with child. With some effort, she sat down next to him, putting an arm around his shoulder. "Come to bed, Draco."

"What bed?" he whispered. Scorpius strained to hear him. "We have nothing, Astoria!"

"Says who?"

"Says the Ministry! Says Gringotts!"

Scorpius' mother held on tighter to her husband's shoulder. "But you have your father back. That's something."

"He doesn't even recognize me," Draco muttered. "I sold everything but the bloody house to get him out of Azkaban and he doesn't even recognize me. Ever since Mother died-"

The scene dissolved again. Draco was running down the halls of St Mungo's, dodging staff and wandering patients. Harry and Scorpius had to run to keep up with him.

"Please let it be a girl. Please let it be a girl," they could hear him chanting. He continued this chant all the way down the hall until he came into his wife's room. He immediately focused on the tiny blue bundle in her arms and his face visibly fell. "Oh no," they heard him mutter.

As the world vanished again, Scorpius looked over at Harry, a wash of emotions coming over him. He had never seen his father like this, and it was unnerving. The Malfoys were always wealthy. Scorpius never remembered being poor, or had even heard about it. And Viedemal was Voldemort's child? His daughter? His powers were being used to resurrect the same evil that had destroyed so many lives? He began to feel sick.

The room transformed again. His mother and father were arguing.

"YOU DID WHAT?" Astoria screamed, her face marked with a combination of terror and hurt.

"I had no choice!" Draco yelled. He grabbed Scorpius's mother by the arms, shaking her roughly. "He would have killed me if I had refused!"

"How could you?" she whimpered, tears starting to fall from her face. "I hate you! I hate you! Our son! How could you do this to Scorpius?"

She collapsed on Draco's chest, sobbing. In the distance, a baby started to cry.

The scene dissolved again. A much older Astoria was drawing her wand, advancing towards a fully-grown Viedemal before Draco could stop her. "You will not harm my son!"

Draco barely had time to grab a hold of Astoria before a flash of green light illuminated the room. Astoria collapsed to the ground.

"ASTORIA! NO!"

Viedemal tucked her wand away, a satisfied smile on her face.

"NO!" Draco cried. "After all I've done for you! After teaching you about the Dark Lord! You promised that-"

"I promised nothing," Viedemal said in her silky, hissing voice. She reached into the pocket of her robes, dropping what would become Rosie's locket onto the ground. "Take this and hide it in your Manor. It is very important to me-"

Draco reluctantly picked up the locket, as if he did not have control over his actions. Tears fell from his face. "What is so important about it?"

Viedemal's hand came down fast on his cheek, causing his head to spin. "DO NOT QUESTION ME! I SHALL BE VERY DISPLEASED IF IT IS DESTROYED OR LOST! IS THAT UNDERSTOOD?"

Draco nodded.

"Do not forget what happened last time my family was displeased!" she hissed out violently.

The scene dissolved again, and Scorpius felt something hot twist up his insides. He was about to comment, beg to end this nightmare when he heard screaming.

Spinning on the spot, he found his father with his wand pointed over Scorpius's crumpled form. It was eerie, Scorpius decided, to watch yourself, much less after a brutal session of torture.

"If I have to drag you to Albania in a casket, then so be it," Draco ground out, but it wasn't anything near the snarl that Scorpius remembered. Draco's voice shook, ever so slightly. He eyed his son on the floor carefully, then went down the hallway. Scorpius was prepared to follow his father down to his study, but Draco turned left instead of right, straight into the lavatory. Not even bothering to close the door for privacy, Draco got sick, barely making it to the toilet.

"Oh gods," Scorpius heard his father- his strong, brave, cold father moan. "I can't- I can't-"

The scene melted away, and Scorpius found himself standing in the doorway of his bedroom at the manor next to Draco. He saw himself on his bed, Kreul hissing in his ear maliciously as he was dressed, petrified and helpless. Scorpius watched his father as Kreul went about his work. Draco was growing paler by the second, his hands damp on his cane, beads of sweat forming on his brow.

"That will be enough, Kreul," Draco said, putting gentle force into his voice. It suddenly struck Scorpius how hard his father had to act to be cold and cruel, an emotion that Scorpius had desperately tried to emulate for so many years; an emotion that he thought only came natural to the Malfoys that he had simply failed to grasp.

The scene faded away again to the small cottage that Scorpius thought that he only dreamed of. Draco was sitting in the kitchen, ears perking as he heard Scorpius trying to break free from his warded bedroom. Scorpius watched as Draco visibly steeled his will and stormed out of the kitchen and down the hall. "Foolish child!" Scorpius could hear him yell, but he didn't bother to follow, knowing exactly what he would find. "Crying pathetically in the dark! We have work to do!"

The sounds of struggle were evident, and Scorpius shook with rage and pent up sadness. This was all too much, too much. It was hard enough the first time to bear this. Tears stood in his eyes as he heard his former self protesting, declaring his love for Rosie all over again and his bastard of a father setting him up for slaughter but feeling repentant for it all along.

His father was weak. So very fucking weak.

"Scorpius," Harry said, trying to drown out the noise of the argument in the bedroom but failing. "Maybe it's time to go back." He placed a hand on Scorpius's shoulder.

Scorpius knocked it off angrily. "How much more is there?"

Harry bit his lip. "We're almost done."

The scene faded away as soon as Harry spoke the words. They were back in the Malfoy Manor, in Draco's study. Draco was sitting at his desk, looking longingly at a picture of his wife and Scorpius. It was a picture that Scorpius had not seen in a long time. Normally, the pictures in the house were all portraits- commissioned works of posed art, looking very regal and dignified with no hint of any real emotion. This picture, however, was candid. Scorpius only looked about three or four years old. They were bundled in the snow, pink-cheeked and laughing as Astoria picked her son up by the waist, flung him into the air easily caught him again.

Scorpius felt his throat constrict. It was his favorite memory of his mother and Draco had kept the picture from him all these years. It was hard to stay mad at him though, as hard as the urge was to go to his father and storm at him, Draco was crying. Gently, sadly and barely noticeable. His cheeks were faintly damp as he ran his finger over young Scorpius's hair.

"My boy," he whispered to himself. "I'm sorry, so very sorry-" His voice was choked with tears.

Draco put down the picture and put his head in his hands, shaking nervously. He took a few deep breaths and dropped his hands away, balling them into fists. It was then that Scorpius noted all the parchments on the desk, several urgent letters from the Auror department, Headmistress Dobrinski, Harry Potter, Mme Saffrun, the head medi-witch at Hogwarts, all noting Scorpius's declining health. Not one business form in the whole lot. Those papers were piled away in the corner of the study near the bookcase, as if Draco could not bear to look at them long enough to even file them away properly.

It was then that Draco burst out in anger, shoving all the letters off the desk and standing up quickly. Scorpius moved out of the way, as did Harry as Draco went and tore apart his own, precious study, letting out a feral howl as he toppled the bookcases, threw the chair and knocked the expensive antique paintings from the walls.

Scorpius and Harry watched as his father completely lost his mind, anger bursting so hotly that Draco's magic got away from him and the vase in the corner shattered. Water and glass went everywhere and Draco dropped to his knees on the carpet, looking well beyond his years and more lost then ever.

They watched Draco for a moment as he took a deep breath, but now he took on an eerie sort of calm that seemed to mark a man desperate enough to do anything with cold resignation.

"This has to stop," Draco muttered. He sounded half-mad and desperate. "I can't let this continue-"

Draco stood up suddenly, making his way to his desk. He pulled out drawer after drawer, dumping them out and not bothering to put them back in their proper place, making the room an even bigger mess than before.

Draco's hands shook uncontrollably, his nerves pronouncing themselves violently. "Only one way to end this- only one way-"

Finally, Draco found what he was looking for. Scorpius's eyes widened as Draco ran his finger along the blade of dagger. "The only way. The only way-" Draco began to fumble his robes open, as if he had to open them before he completely lost his nerve. Scorpius watched in numb surprise as Draco exposed the soft skin of his stomach. Gripping the dagger with both hands, Draco aimed it towards stomach but stopped before it could make contact.

"OPEN UP, MALFOY!" could be heard distantly from outside. "DON'T THINK I WON'T PUT YOU UNDER ARREST, MALFOY! FOR WITHOLDING INFORMATION! ABUSE OF A MINOR! ABSTRUCTION OF JUSTICE! FOR-"

There came a knocking at the Draco's study, and Kreul entered. "Sir- Filthy Potter is here sir. Not proper- not proper." Kreul took in the state of the room, but did not comment on the mess or Draco's state of dress. "Shall Kreul let him in?"

"Yes, Kreul," Draco said, dropping the dagger to the ground. He seemed to come back to himself, adjusting his robes and his hair. Kreul left the room and Draco looked around the room and sighed. He withdrew his wand and gave a quick flick. The room immediately righted itself. "There's more than one way to kill a curse," Draco muttered to himself as they heard Harry yelling from the foyer.

Draco took a quick glance at the mirror, casting a charm over himself to cover any evidence of his upset state. He placed his hand on the door and paused. One small vial laid in the corner, trapped in a mouse-hole. Draco bent and picked it up, eyeing it carefully. In a moment of quick decision, Draco uncorked it, drew his wand to his temple and began to pull out a long stream of silvery memories.

"Just in case," Draco muttered.

The room faded to black.


	36. Scorpius's Decision

Scorpius landed on his feet back in the infirmary, but only was able to keep his balance with Harry's arm around his waist.

"Easy now. Easy," Harry said as Scorpius practically toppled over. Dizziness seemed to flood over Scorpius, the weakness in his limbs weighing him down as if they were loaded with lead, his vision fading into mere mists and swirls. They made their way to Scorpius's bed, and Scorpius felt a great rush of relief as Harry uncorked another vial of currant-scented booster, tilted Scorpius's head back and poured the potion down his throat.

Scorpius gulped at the potion eagerly, sick to his stomach but desperate for something to distract him as Harry sat down on the opposite bed and watched.

The room stopped its spinning, and Scorpius placed his hands on either sides of his hips and bent forward, staring at the ground and trying to calm his quaking heart. A variety of emotions flooded over him, and he wasn't sure which one he ought to be feeling. He was angry- angry for his father to betray him, even before he was born. Angry at Harry for showing him these memories. Angry at Voldemort for torturing his father. Anger for Hagrid, whom his father had so brutally tormented.

Then again, he was sad. Overwhelmingly sad and drenched in self-pity. His mother was dead, and that left him alone in the world.

Shame. He let his father down. He let Rosie down. Why hadn't he fought? Why hadn't he seen what was happening? Why hadn't he left? Why hadn't he killed Viedemal when he had the chance? Why did he have to be born into this? Why his father couldn't even save himself? Why couldn't he be happy? Why couldn't he be normal? Why did he have to see those memories? It was so much easier to hate his father without knowing the explanations.

It was all so very confusing.

"I know this must be very hard for you, Scorpius," Harry said quietly.

Scorpius's head shot up, focused anger pulsing out of him in waves. "Hard for me? What do you know about it?" he spat. "Why did you have to show me those memories? WHY? I was better off not seeing it!" Scorpius yelled, his voice cracking. "My father was a sick, twisted, cowardly bastard who sold me to bloody Voldemort! He did not care one sickle for me and that's the best you can come up with? 'I know this must be hard for you'? How big of you! How original!" Scorpius said sarcastically. "You know what? While we're at it, why don't you tell me a lovely bedtime story about conquering evil, where the boy gets the girl and they live happily ever after!"

"Scorpius-"

"No, you listen! You didn't have to show me those memories! You don't know what it's like to have everyone abandon you and tell you that you're wrong or weak or sick because you don't live up to your name! You don't have to pretend and keep quiet when all you want to do is scream and you still get kicked down for it! And you know what? Fuck you! If you think that those memories make up for anything my father ever did, then you're wrong! He was still a bloody fucking coward who'd rather kill off his own family then sacrifice himself! Don't let his act fool you. He. Did. Not. Care!"

"That's a lie, Scorpius, and you know it," Harry said evenly. "Think back. Your grandfather's trial. Your mother. Your father's study."

Scorpius took off from his bed, towering over Harry. "OK!" Scorpius said, pointing a mad finger at Harry. "Let's think about it! The lawyer said that you testified against my grandfather, causing my dad to spend the family fortune to get him out of jail! And you- YOU were a provision in Voldemort's vow! YOU kept dad from killing himself so we wasted all that time and energy for something that would have happened already and Rosie wouldn't be sick if it wasn't for you!"

Harry's face took on a look of immense hurt, and Scorpius couldn't stand to look at it any longer. He gripped onto his hair in a desperate attempt to arrange his thoughts and sat down heavily on the bed, feeling the hot splash of tears drip from his eyes.

It was unfair- so horribly unfair for this to happen- but worse to blame Harry for it. Scorpius just wanted to close his eyes and wake up with the world as it should be, even if it meant having a bastard of a father. Even if it meant seeing Rosie only in secret.

Harry, to his credit, seemed to understand. Scorpius did not realize that his eyes were closed until he felt Harry's hand on his knee as he knelt before Scorpius. Scorpius let go of his own hair and looked directly down into Harry's eyes.

"I'm not here to excuse my actions and you have every right to be angry with me." Harry said simply. He removed his glasses with one hand, keeping them out of harm's way. "If you want to hit me or hex me, then I won't stop you."

Harry kept his eye contact with Scorpius evenly. Determinedly. Scorpius was shocked by the trust that Harry suddenly put in him. A relative stranger- the rival of his father and one of the most powerful wizards in modern-day England offered to let Scorpius have an uncontested go at him. But Scorpius surprised himself even more by drawing back his fist.

Keeping his arm poised, Scorpius watched as Harry made no move to restrain Scorpius or protect himself. The urge was strong to pound Harry down, rip him to shreds or at the very least break his nose like his father did so many years before. To hurt Harry Potter wouldn't be enough though. He felt so angry that he wanted to rip the castle apart by hand- to bring it and everyone in it crashing down. He clenched his fist tight, so tight that his knuckles turned white, his hand shaking violently as he tried to built his resolve into action.

With a thud, Scorpius's hand dropped onto the mattress.

Harry let out a sigh of relief. "Come," he said, putting on his glasses. "I think it's time that we had some tea and maybe something to eat." He stood, helping Scorpius to his feet. To his surprise, the boy didn't protest, just let himself be dragged to the corner with a small table big enough for a game of cards or tea for two.

Harry prepared their tea, letting Scorpius sit in silence as he piled the biscuits on two plates. The boy had not truly eaten since he arrived at the greenhouses more than a day before, and he looked too pale and drawn not to be hungry. However, Harry noticed that Scorpius had no interest in eating as they settled and sipped their tea.

And then, something happened that no one had seen in a very long time. And to tell the truth, it would have shocked many people indeed. Harry began to speak openly and freely about his time at Hogwarts.

He told Scorpius about the sorting hat, the philosopher's stone. The Basilisk. Sirius Black and Remus Lupin. The talked about the Triwizard Tournament, his failed attempts at romance with Cho. He talked about the D.A. He talked about Dumbledore and Snape and what it was like to live on the run. To his own surprise, Harry even began talking about the Dursleys- a group of people that he had seemed to been determined to completely forget.

As he talked, Scorpius felt himself drawing out, enraptured by Harry's stories. The man's adventures certainly lived up to his reputations. He even felt like laughing when Harry's told him about the horrendous nature of Ron Weasley's desk robes and the Weasley Twins pranks. He felt himself leaning in when Harry recalled his Quidditch matches and battling the dragon.

Then Harry talked about life after school. About the aftermath of the war. Lucius's trial, Ginny's career as a Holyhead Harpie and Harry's training as an Auror. He talked about getting married, and how he nervous he had been. Scorpius almost spit out his gulp of tea when Harry recounted how George Weasley had caught him practicing his vows to a coat rack and bewitched it to answer back.

Harry talked about becoming a father, raising children. It became evident to Scorpius how much Harry loved his family, though, from the sound of it, it did not seem that Harry shared this information often with his children. Scorpius thought back on his shaking friendship with Albus before Viedemal came and destroyed his life. It always seemed that Albus was under the impression that his father didn't really care, or would even have preferred if Albus just not speak to him at all.

"Have you ever told your kids any of this?" Scorpius said, completely forgetting his own worries for a brief moment. "I've known Al since our 1st year and he's never mentioned any of this before."

"Well," Harry said, looking a little ashamed. "Honestly, I don't tell my kids a lot of this. Which is something that's going to change."

"Promise?" Scorpius said.

"Promise," Harry replied.

It wasn't long before the sun began to rise. Harry placed another vial of booster on the table, but Scorpius took his time on taking it. Now that he was in a pleasant conversation rather than bursting out in fits and exploring memories, he found that the effects of the booster lasted longer. One day, as Harry assured him, he would be able to regain his powers and live normally.

But 'normal' had not been a part of Scorpius's life for a long, long time. He doubted that 'normal' would ever be part of the plan.

Scorpius let Harry's words flow over him, just barely catching Harry's offer for Scorpius to stay with the Potters (which he accepted) and Harry asking about the location of Draco's will so they could get permission to put Scorpius under treatment at St. Mungo's (Kreul will know, but good luck getting him to give it to you).

"What about Rosie?" Scorpius said, glancing at her forgotten bed.

Harry let out a deep sigh then shared all he could about what he knew, sharing details and theories about Viedemal's horcrux and Scorpius's protection over her. He explained how Scorpius's willing sacrifice saved her life, but left her scarred. "Alive, but cursed," as Harry put it quietly.

They sat in silence for a long moment, Harry watching Scorpius as he got up and walked to Rosie's bed. From his stance, Harry could tell that the last booster was beginning to wear off, but Scorpius made no move to retrieve the vial.

Instead, he just stood there, looking forlornly at the blankets, eyeing a red hair that had been left behind, the scent of jasmine gently wafting under his nose. He closed his eyes and breathed it in. No matter what he had been through, that scent had lingered and he didn't realize how long he had gone without it until he took it now. The brown eyes, the gentle touch. All that which was Rosie seemed to take him over, making him feel light-headed and wonderful. This magic was stronger than any he had felt before- as cheesy and as common as it sounded, it was true.

But then opened his eyes and remembered reality. Rosie had almost died. He had almost died. Rosie was stuck in St. Mungo's, cursed and blessed all at once. Who knew if she'd ever be the same again. And Viedemal, according to Harry, was still at large and would be on the hunt for him, and then Rosie once she learned that she had survived.

Scorpius felt Harry's arm around his shoulder, not even registering that he had gotten up from their tea until now. "What are you thinking, Scorpius?" Harry said quietly, as if not sure whether the question would be welcomed or not.

Barely above a whisper- so that Harry had to strain to hear him, Scorpius replied.

"I love her," he said as the jasmine, once again, invaded his senses. "I still love her."

----------------------

AN: stay tuned for the epilogue!


	37. Epilogue

AN: I promised a sickenly sweet and endearing ending, so here it is. Enjoy and please review!

---------------

Ron laughed from deep inside his belly as he watched Scorpius pace around the room.

"Sit down! Relax!" he said, leaning back in his chair, tucking his hands behind his head. "There's nothing you can do but wait it out."

Scorpius wasn't sure what he wanted to do more; hex Ron or throttle him. But seeing that now was not the time to exact a ten year old revenge, he did neither. He wished he was a smoker. Isn't that what men in his current position normally did?

"Why can't I go in there?" he said, sitting down in his chair.

James shook his head. "Strictly a witch's affair. And trust me, be glad of it." He gave a glance to his right. "You wouldn't want to know the kind of threats I got from Claire after our first. Thank Merlin for silencing spells," he added, tossing his thumb at the door. "I can't image what she'll do to me in one month when we have our second."

Rising to his feet, Scorpius took out his wand for the umpteenth time and twirled it in his fingers. At this point he was so nervous that he probably couldn't even perform a proper elementary levitation charm, but it helped to have something to fiddle with.

Tossing the wand into the air, he tried to catch it, only to watch it fumble out of his hands. Scorpius felt heat raising up under his collar, but thankfully, no one else mentioned it.

"-anyway," Harry said, gesturing wildly to a small, curly-haired girl who wasn't even old enough to tie her own shoes properly. "This troll breaks into the school dungeon-"

"Was it as big as a house?" she said, her brown eyes wide.

"BIGGER!"

"Did he smell?" she asked in a quiet voice, clutching her teddy bear to her chest.

"Like your daddy's old socks!" Harry mock-whispered loud enough for his son to hear.

James let out a "Hey!" of protest, but it was through a distinct chuckle.

Tabatha's toes curled in her little footie pajamas. She stared at her grandfather through the fur on her toy, her breath catching in excitement. "What happened then?" she said. Harry smirked. Definitely a future Gryffindor.

"You great-uncle Ron raised his wand-!" Harry gestured a _swish and flick_ motion wildly with his invisible wand. "And yelled '_WINGARDIUM LEVIOSA'! _And BAM!" Harry clapped his hands with force, making a great ruckus that caused the small child to jump in her seat. "The troll's club came out of his hand and landed right on his thick noggin!"

Tabatha let out a shocked gasp, then giggled as Harry demonstrated the troll's reaction, complete with a dull, confused expression and plenty of drool. He collapsed across Ron's lap, who shoved Harry off onto the floor. Both fully-grown men could hardly help hamming up the story for such a willing audience.

Ginny, who had just come in and was leaning on the doorframe, laughed. If only her husband had been this animated when their own kids were young. Albus, out of the corner of his eye, watched as his father wrestled on the floor with his uncle. Retirement, it seemed, had faired wonders.

Lily peered over her mother's shoulder, her red hair up in a bun, excitement brimming over her. By the expression on her face, she felt just as endeared to the scene as any of them. She traced a hand to her belly, feeling the small, barely-there bulge that was slowly ripening. Albus gave her a wink and she blushed. He was the first- and only one- who knew so far. He felt a bloom of appreciation for Lily, who had agreed to be the surrogate mother for him and Cedric. But that little revelation would come in time.

At the sound of Ginny's laugh, Scorpius ran up, stopping just short of barreling into her. "Is she-?"

Ginny, giving a smile that any Slytherin would be proud to master, stepped aside and gave a small bow. "Go see for yourself," she said, waving a hand towards the open door.

Scorpius was barely aware that he had crossed the threshold, sprinting down the halls. From off in the distance, he could hear Tabatha loudly protesting "But I'm not sleepy!"

Her pleas faded in the distance as Scorpius plowed forward, turning this way and that down the sterile, never-varying hallways. His breath caught in his chest as he turned the final corner. His mother-in-law, with her bushy brown hair, was outside of Rosie's room, removing a medi-witch's mask, letting her white-streaked hair fall over her shoulders.

"Scorpius!" Hermione said with a smile, hugging him. "Rose is just waking up and oh! She's just glowing, Scorpius! Congratulations! It was a bumpy delivery but they're just fine!"

Scorpius wasn't hearing a word of it. "Mrs. Weas- Herm- _Mum_! If I could just-" he said, trying to break free politely, but the strategy just didn't seem to work.

A few more feeble attempts later, Hermione released him. "Oh! I'm so sorry! I'm just so excited!" She kissed him on the cheek. "Is everyone in the waiting room?" It didn't seem possible, but her eyes brightened more as Scorpius nodded his head. "Oh but Ginny's probably already ahead of me! Well what are you waiting for?" she exclaimed, shoving him at the door. "Get in there!"

Listening to Hermione's footsteps fading down the corridor, Scorpius wasted no time in obeying. He went inside and stopped dead in his tracks.

A medi-witch, a squat little thing, was tending to Rosie, adjusting a small bundle in her arms. "That's right, that's right," the medi-witch squeaked, her voice high and musical. "Make sure that the head is supported. That's right."

Scorpius coughed, drawing their attention.

"Are you the father?" The medi-witch chirped. He gave her a brief nod as she began to adjust the bed sheets. She raised herself to full-height, which was no higher than Scorpius' sternum. "Well then I best be off so you can get better acquainted," she said, tucking Rosie in. "Now if you need me, you know how to summon me. Yes? Good."

She waddled out of the room, closing the door behind her.

Scorpius had been so eager to see Rosie, but now, all he could do was stare. This wasn't real. It just couldn't be real.

"Well, come on, then!" Rosie said, beckoning her husband with her free arm.

He hobbled over in a daze, drawn in by Rosie's eyes. Hermione was right, she was glowing.

As soon as he was in her limited reach, she pulled him down to sit on the bed with her.

She sighed. "I look awful, don't I? I haven't even washed up." Rosie glanced down lovingly at the bundle in her arms. "But I don't mind."

"I think you look beautiful," Scorpius muttered, just barely audible. It was all his voice could muster, but he meant every word of it. Rosie's hair was matted with sweat, her skin flushed, her lips bitten and looking slightly bruised, beads of moisture collecting on her lashes. But he could never remember a time, even on their wedding day, where she had looked more gorgeous, luminous, as she did right then. He told her so, watching her skin flush deeper, casting her eyes down.

But a small smile lit across her face. "Thank you," she said.

Scorpius smiled back, his heart skipping a beat as he eyed the tiny bundle in her arms. "Is- is that-"

"No," Rosie said in a very serious voice. Scorpius looked at her face in worry. "It's a big cheese, disguised as a baby. These past nine months have been nothing but a sham."

Scorpius gave a frustrated sigh. "This child is going nowhere _near_ Al. You'll be a bad enough influence as it is."

Rosie chuckled. "Oh, just try to keep him away. Between Uncle George's prank shop and Al coaching little Prudence every step of the way-"

"Prudence?" he said, befuddled.

"-she'll be the terror of Hogwarts. And yes. Prudence."

Scorpius shook his head. "The last Prudence I knew had teeth like a horse and smelled like Stinksap. Try again."

"Petunia." Scorpius winced. "Ester." He shook his head. "Ida." He stuck out his tongue. "Calliope." He wrinkled his nose. "Sophie."

Scorpius let out a giggle (a manly one, if he was pressed for an excuse). "We're not naming our daughter after an owl!" he said. Scorpius reached out a hand to touch the bundle in Rosie's arms, only to have her pull his daughter back from him. "Hey!"

The baby made a small fuss, but Rosie rocked her back to sleep. "If you're so smart, you try to come up with a name for her!" she said quietly, but with no less intensity.

Scorpius thought for a moment, feeling the butterflies that had been bouncing in his stomach settle. Leave it to Rosie to settle him down, to make him feel comfortable in this strange moment.

The name, as James had promised, was the tricky part. His in-laws all confirmed the fact that it usually was only settled _after_ the baby was born. Not that Scorpius and Rosie Malfoy hadn't tried to break that tradition. He felt he had been very patient with Rosie, letting her rattle off names, changing her mind constantly. Scorpius had been warned that that would happen too. A pregnant Weasley's mind was hardly, if ever, completely settled. It was a fact of life, like missing socks and ill-tempered lawn-gnomes.

But since none of the names that Rosie shot out appealed to him, he quietly vetoed them, one by one. There was one, itching in the back of his mind. It was rather silly, but it felt right.

"I was thinking-" he said, offering his waiting wife a small smile "That I would want to call her Harriett." Rosie quirked an eyebrow. "You know, after your uncle." He felt a small pang in the pit of his stomach. "I mean," he said, looking down at the bundle in Rosie's arms. "He did so much for us. Saved us. I mean-"

"Sh," Rosie cooed. Scorpius looked up, never realizing that he was, in fact, avoiding her gaze. She gave him an encouraging smile, then gazed down at her first and only daughter. "Harriett…" she ventured. She tilted the baby in her arms. "Harriett…"

The baby, the small bundle wrapped in pink, let out an audible fart.

The mood officially broke and the couple began to laugh so hard that the baby began to cry. She hadn't found her voice yet, so it wasn't all that loud. Nonetheless, Rosie tried to calm her through her giggles but was doing a poor job of it. She handed her off to Scorpius, who sobered up quicker than Rosie so as not to upset the infant more.

"Well, that settles that I guess," Rosie sighed. Another small round of laughter bubbled from her throat as she rested her arm across her depleted belly, resting against the headboard behind her. "It hurts to laugh," but she did so anyway.

Scorpius looked down at the bundle, curling one hand from under his daughter to move aside a bit of blanket that was covering her face.

She didn't look at all like Harry. After all, she didn't have any Potter blood in her veins. Her face was longer, her lips fuller (much like her mother) and on her head was a mountain of strawberry-blonde curls.

Then, she opened her eyes.

Scorpius took in a sharp breath as he took in those pale eyes; a beautiful crystal grey color. So light they almost looked silver. When she grew older, she would be able to stop Quidditch games and traffic with those eyes.

Scorpius was going to have to brush up on his jinxes and hexes, just in case any boys had the wrong idea.

"So we're agreed then," Rosie said, breaking the silence.

Scorpius blinked at her, confused, until he back-tracked and remembered the conversation. "You mean it?" he asked, wide-eyed. "You like the name?"

Rosie leaned forward, as did Scorpius. She brushed away the blanket from the baby's face so she could see properly. "I do."

Scorpius felt a bubble of joy rise in his chest. "Mipsy!" he cried.

With a pop, the little house-elf appeared. "Yes, Master Scorpius?"

"I have someone I want you to meet, Mipsy," Scorpius said, absolutely beaming. He bent down as low as he dared, showing Mipsy the bundle. "This is Harriet Abigail Malfoy."

Mipsy reached up on her tip-toes, her large eyes peering into the face of her master's little offspring, who stared back at her. A chubby little hand reached out, and Mipsy offered her finger. Harriett grabbed it was her hot little fist.

"Master! Little Mistress is beautiful, sir! Master's mother would have been proud, she would have been!" Mipsy smiled, her eyes twinkling.

Harriett let go of Mipsy's finger and yawned. Almost immediately, she fell asleep. Being born, Scorpius wagered, was very hard work.

"Mipsy," Scorpius said, catching the small elf's attention. "Could you please go tell the supervising medi-witch that we've decided on a name? And would you please tell them what it is?" Mipsy nodded. "And then please go down to the waiting room and tell our family the same thing?" Mipsy nodded again. "Thank you."

"Will that be all, sir?" Mipsy ventured.

"Yes," Scorpius said.

"Then Mipsy will go do it, sir," she said, positively beaming. "Little Mistress is lovely," she said, turning to Rosie. "Just as Mipsy thought she would be." With a crack, Mipsy disappeared.

Scorpius shifted on the bed, gazing at Harriett in a sort of quiet awe.

He had helped create this little being. A little mass of blankets, strawberry-blonde curls and a mouth like a bow.

She was his. His child. His daughter.

A Malfoy.

Scorpius felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked up, finding a look of concern written over his wife's face. "What's wrong Scorpius? Oh Merlin! Scorpius! What's wrong?"

He couldn't stop hot tears from falling down his cheeks. All through the pregnancy (though he never bothered Rosie with it since he didn't want her to worry) he had been scared out of his skin over the thought of becoming a father. He never knew love or compassion until he began with Rosie and her family. His life had been nothing but lies and unrealistic expectations. What did he know about raising a child? He was alright with Tabatha, he had to admit, but his own flesh and blood? Would he sell out his children too? The way that Draco had? Would he torture them? Overbear them? Would it even be safe for Scorpius to become a father?

_No_. As Harry often reminded him the past nine months. _Not becoming father. A __dad__. There's a difference. _

He let out a shaky breath. Harriett slept on. "I-I was so worried," he said, taking his time with his words, "after you were marked by Viedemal. You took forever to recover. I-I felt so g-guilty that I brought that on you. You have no idea." His voice was barely a whisper.

"But you defeated her," Rosie said, her voice pushing into a false sense of calm that she did not feel. Scorpius rarely talked about Viedemal, only drawing her name out when he had something heavy on his chest. _Like bricks_ he had once described. "You, Al, Hugo, Dad and Uncle Harry didn't rest until she was completely eradicated. That counts for something, Scorpius. That counts for a lot."

"But it took years," Scorpius added. Harriett slept on.

"So what?" Rosie said, her voice becoming stern. Scorpius looked at her with a grimace, but she didn't care. She was not letting him take the blame for events that he had no control over. No matter how many years, no matter how many rows, she was still never able to convince him that dealing with Viedemal and her effects had been a ridiculously small price to pay in order to have Scorpius. "You came to help me when you could have just walked away. Just as you did when my dad attacked you. Just as I did when Viedemal kept calling you from the school to torture you! Just as Professor Longbottom did when he wanted to train you despite your father's wishes!"

Her hand tightened on his shoulder. "Scor- This may sound hard to believe, but I love you. I wouldn't have entered this marriage and given birth to your child if I didn't think you were worth it."

Scorpius looked from his wife to Harriett, who was still sleeping, although he wasn't really sure how she managed. His heart was pounding in his chest, his Adam's apple pulsing in his throat. He held Harriett tighter to his chest. She let out a huff of breath but slept on. How could he care so deeply about something-someone- who wasn't even a day old? She couldn't walk, talk or feed herself, but Merlin! How important she felt to him.

Rosie didn't speak for a moment, letting her words sink into him. He had been listening; however, not in the way she thought he had.

"I wasn't blaming myself over what happened with Viedemal," he said. He looked at his wife who gave him a reproachful look. "Granted, I do that on occasion," he consented. "But not this time."

Rosie's face relaxed, a small blush spreading over her cheeks. "Oh," she said, sounding chastised.

"But, I had been thinking- I wasn't sure I can do this." He nodded his head at Harriett. "I wasn't sure I was right for this. I never had a good relationship with my father. I barely knew him, really. And how would I know if I was doing right? And I'm still not sure I'm ready for this," he admitted. "How will I know that I won't do what my father did, or what his father did? And how could I bear it if some dark wizard or witch used her to get to us? How-"

Rosie clapped a hand over his mouth. "You're rambling," she stated softly. "Listen to me," she said, keeping her hand on his mouth. "Do you love me?" Scorpius nodded. "Do you love Harriett?" He nodded again. "Do you trust our family?" The nod came a little slower. "Do you trust Professors Longbottom, Dobrinski and Saffrun?" Scorpius thought for a moment, then nodded.

"Then I trust you to do what's right. Not just for Harriett, but for all of us." She removed her hand. "Your father's family liked to stay in power; with whoever could give it to them, and it cost them dearly. It cost them _you. _They made a series of horrible mistakes, but they've paid for their sins and it's over and done with. " She gave him a penetrating look. "You're not your father, Scor. You're not doing what he would have done."

Harriett woke up, beginning to fuss. Rosie held out her arms and Scorpius handed her back, willingly albeit reluctantly. "Think she's hungry?" Scorpius said, and Rosie nodded, clumsily adjusting her dressing gown and Harriett, trying to find a comfortable position. It took a moment, then Harriett latched on, causing Rosie to jump a little in surprise. "What's it like?" Scorpius asked. "Bad?"

"No," Rosie replied, her voice sounding a bit uncertain. "Just strange."

Harriett suckled, settling against her mother's breast.

Scorpius thought over Rosie's words as he watched, then felt the corner of his mouth tugging upwards. Rosie had just given birth to their first child, given him a stern lecture and plowed forward into mothering.

Whoever called women the weaker sex was sorely mistaken.

At that moment, the room burst open.

"Tell Daddy that I don't have to go to bed!" Little Tabatha cried, shoving her way into the door. The slat of wood was far too heavy for her to open on her own. James gave it a discreet push, so that Tabatha thought she was doing it on her own. Tabatha bounded onto the bed with her teddy bear in her arms as the family followed. "Who's that?" she said loudly, pointing at Harriett as several adults brought their fingers to their lips and hissed out a collective "sh!"

Scorpius laughed, getting up and collecting Tabatha in his arms, placing her on his lap. "That's Harriett, my daughter," he said.

"Oh!" Tabatha said. "Was that what was growing in Auntie Rosie's tummy?"

"Yep," Scorpius said grinning. "And she's just perfect."

"Just like me?" Tabatha said, her eyes bright.

Several of the adults snickered. Tabatha looked around, confused. She was used to being the baby of the family, and hadn't quite realized that this new bundle, while small, was about to take away her spot-light.

Rather than enlighten her, Scorpius pulled her closer, drawing her into a warmly enveloping hug.

"Exactly, Tabatha. Just like you."

-Fin

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Ok, this is necessary.

I'd like to thank all of my reviewers. I really could not have finished this without you. Literally. Your threats were taken seriously.

:-


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